THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
LIBRARY 


PRESENTED  BY  THE 
WILLIAM  A.  WHITAKER 
FOUNDATION 


TALES 


OF  THE 


BIT  EDGAR  A.  FOE. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


These  Tales  have  received  encomiums  of  a  most  unusual 
character,  from  a  great  variety  of  high  sources.  Besides 
a  number  of  editorial  opinions  in  their  favor,  some  personal 
ones  ( not  editorial)  are  here  appended.  As  all  these 
(with  a  single  exception)  have  already  found  their  way 
into  the  papers,  or  other  prints,  of  the  time,  the  publishers 
presume  there  can  be  no  impropriety  in  their  republica¬ 
tion. 

PERSONAL  OPINIONS. 

These  tales  are  eminently  distinguished  by  a  wild,  vigorous,  and 
poetical  imagination,  a  rich  style,  a  fertile  invention,  and  varied  and 

curious  learning . Of  singular  force  and  beauty. — 

John  P.  Kennedy. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  a  tale  called  “  The  House  of  Usher,”  and 
should  think  that  a  collection  of  tales,  equally  well  written,  could  not 

fail  of  being  favorably  received . Its  graphic  eAect 

is  powerful. —  Washington  Irving. 

I  have  read  a  little  tale  called  “  William  Wilson”  with  much 
pleasure.  It  is  managed  in  a  highly  picturesque  style,  and  the  singu¬ 
lar  and  mysterious  interest  is  ably  sustained  throughout.  I  repeat 
what  I  have  said  of  a  previous  production  of  this  author ;  that  I  can¬ 
not  but  think  that  a  series  of  articles  of  like  style  and  merit  would  be 
extremely  well  received  by  the  public. —  Washington  Irving. 

In  “  Ligeia,”  by  Mr.  Poe,  there  is  a  fine  march  of  description, 
which  has  a  touch  of  the  HTsraeli  quality. — JV.  P.  Willis — Letters 
from  tinder  a  Bridge. 


n 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


He  puts  us  in  mind  of  no  less  a  writer  than  Shelley. — John  Neal. 

“  Bon-Bon,”  by  Mr.  Poe,  is  equal  to  anything  Theodore  Hook  ever 
wrote. — M.  M.  Noah. 

Mr.  Poe’s  “  M.S.  found  in  a  bottle”  is  one  of  the  most  singularly 
ingenious  and  imaginative  things  I  ever  remember  to  have  read. 
Discovery  is  there  analyzed  and  spiritualized  in  a  strain  of  allegory 
which  need  not  fear  comparison  with  Coleridge’s  “  Ancient  Mariner.” 
— J.  F.  Otis. 

- That  powerful  pen,  whose  versatile  and  brilliant  creations  I 

have  so  often  admired. — Mrs.  L.  II.  Sigourney. 

Mr.  Poe  possesses  an  extraordinary  faculty.  He  paints  the  palpable 
obscure  with  strange  power,  throwing  over  his  pictures  a  sombre 
gloom  which  is  appalling.  The  images  are  dim,  but  distinct ;  sha¬ 
dowy  but  well-defined.  The  outline  indeed  is  all  we  see;  but  there 
they  stand,  shrouded  in  darkness,  and  fright  us  with  the  mystery 
which  defies  farther  scrutiny.  .  .  His  genius,  as  well  as  private 

history,  puts  us  in  mind  of  that  of  Coleridge. — Judge  Beverly 
Tucker  (of  Va.,)  author  of  “George  BalcombeF 

There  can  be  but  one  opinion  in  regard  to  the  force  and  beauty  of 

his  style . He  discovers  a  superior  capacity  and  a  highly 

cultivated  taste . A  gentleman  of  fine  endowments,  pos¬ 

sessing  a  taste  classical  and  refined,  an  imagination  affluent  and 
splendid,  and  withal  a  singular  capacity  for  minute  and  mathematical 

detail . We  always  predicted  that  he  would  reach  a  high 

grade  in  American  literature . •  “  Morelia”  will  un¬ 

questionably  prove  that  Mr.  Poe  has  great  powers  of  imagination, 
and  a  command  of  language  never  surpassed.  We  doubt  if  anything 
in  the  same  style  can  be  cited  which  contains  more  terrific  beauty 
than  this  tale. — James  E.  Heath  (of  Va.),  author  of  “  Edge-Hill ” 
and  Editor  of  the  S.  Lit.  Messenger. 

Mr.  Poe  is  decidedly  the  best  of  all  our  young  writers — I  don’t 
know  but  that  I  may  say,  of  all  our  old  ones. — ./.  K.  Paulding. 

- Facile  princeps. — Professor  Charles  Anthon. 

EDITORIAL  OPINIONS. 

We  must  say  that  we  derive  no  small  enjoyment  from  a  delinea¬ 
tion  like  this.  We  like  to  see  the  evidences  of  study  arid  thought, 
as  well  as  of  inspiration,  in  the  design,  and  of  careful  and  elaborate 
handling  in  the  execution,  as  well  as  of  grand  and  striking  effect  in 
the  tout  ensemble.  The  “Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher”  is  what  we 
denominate  a  stern  and  sombre,  but  at  the  same  time  a  noble  and 
imposing  picture,  such  as  can  be  drawn  only  by  a  master-hand. 
Such  things  are  not  produced  by  your  slip-shod  amateurs  in  composi¬ 
tion. — Phil.  Weekly  Messenger  (Professor  John  Frost). 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Ill 


“  William  Wilson,”  by  Mr.  Poe,  reminds  us  of  Godwin  and 
Brockden  Brown.  The  writer  is  a  kindred  spirit  of  theirs  in  his 
style  of  art.  He  paints  with  sombre  Rembrandt-like  tints,  and  there 
is  great  force  and  vigor  of  conception  in  whatever  he  produces. — 
Phil.  Weekly  Messenger  ( Professor  Frost). 

There  is  also  a  sketch  of  much  power  and  peculiar  interest,  entitled 
“The  House  of  Usher”  which  cannot  fail  to  attract  attention —  . 

.  .  a  remarkable  specimen  of  a  style  of  writing  which  possesses 

many  attractions  for  those  who  love  to  dwell  upon  the  terrible. — 
Phil.  Pennsylvanian  (Jos.  C.  Neal). 

Mr.  Poe’s  story  of  “  The  House  of  Usher”  would  have  been  con¬ 
sidered  a  chef  d’ oeuvre  if  it  had  appeared  in  the  pages  of  Blackwood. 
— N.  Y.  Evening  Star. 

“  Lionizing”  by  Mr.  Poe  is  an  inimitable  piece  of  wit  and  satire  ; 
and  the  man  must  be  far  gone  in  a  melancholic  humor  whose  risibility 
is  not  moved  by  this  tale. — S.  Lit.  Messenger  (E.  Vernon  Spar- 
hawk). 

Mr.  Poe’s  “  Hans  Phaall”  will  add  much  to  his  reputation  as  an 
imaginative  writer.  The  story  is  a  long  one,  but  will  appear  short  to 
the  reader,  whom  it  bears  along  with  irresistible  interest  through  a 
region  of  which  of  all  others  we  know  least,  but  which  his  fancy  has 
invested  with  peculiar  charms. —  Idem. 

The  author  of  the  “Lunar  Hoax”  is  indebted  to  the  “  Hans 
Phaall”  of  Mr.  Poe  for  the  conception  and  in  a  great  measure  for  the 
execution  of  his  discoveries. — Norfolk  Herald. 

The  “  Due  de  L’Omelette”  by  Edgar  A.  Poe,  is  one  of  those  light, 
spirited,  and  fantastic  inventions  of  which  we  have  had  specimens 
before  in  the  Messenger,  betokening  a  fertility  of  imagination  and 
power  of  execution,  that  would,  under  a  sustained  effort,  produce 
creations  of  an  enduring  character. — Baltimore  American  (Geo. 
H.  Calvert). 

The  “  Due  de  L’Omelette”  is  one  of  the  best  tilings  of  the  kind 
vve  have  ever  read.  Mr.  Poe  has  great  powers,  and  every  line  tells 
in  all  he  writes.  He  is  no  spinner  of  long  yarns,  but  chooses  his 
subject,  whimsically  perhaps,  but  originally,  and  treats  it  in  a  manner 
peculiarly  his  own. — National  Intelligencer  (J.F.  Otis). 

Of  the  lighter  contributions — of  the  diamonds  which  sparkle  beside 
the  more  sombre  gems,  commend  us,  thou  spirit  of  eccentricity,  for¬ 
ever  and  a  day,  to  “The  Due  de  L’Omelette,” — the  best  thing  of  the 
kind  we  ever  have  read  or  ever  expect  to  read. — Petersburgh  (  Fa.) 
Constellation  ( II .  Haines). 


IV 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


“The  Tale  of  Jerusalem,”  is  one  of  those  felicitous  hits  which  are 
the  forte  of  Edgar  A.  Poe. — Baltimore  Gazette. 

We  seldom  meet  with  more  boldness  in  the  development  of  intel¬ 
lectual  capacity,  or  more  vividness  in  description  than  we  find  in  the 
productions  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe. — Brownsville  (Pa.)  Observer. 

- Equally  ripe  in  graphic  humor  and  various  lore. —  Charleston 

Courier. 

- An  uniquely  original  vein  of  imagination,  and  of  humorous 

delicate  satire. — S.  L.  Messenger. 

The  story  of  “  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,”  from  the  pen  of 
Mr.  Poe,  is  very  interesting — a  well  told  tale. — Phil.  XJ.  S.  Gazette 
(Jos.  Jt.  Chandler). 

Many  of  these  tales  are  of  a  very  high  order  of  merit,  and  have 
been  admired  wherever  they  have  been  perused  by  men  of  mind. 
Mr.  Poe  is  no  imitator  in  story-telling.  He  has  a  peculiarity  of  his 
own — dealing  often  in  rather  wild  imaginings;  and  yet  he  always 
contrives  to  sustain  his  plots  with  so  much  novelty  of  incident,  that 
you  must  read  him  out  in  spite  of  any  sober  realities  that  may  occa¬ 
sionally  flit  across  the  mind.  And  as  you  read  you  are  ever  impressed 
with  the  truth  that  he  has  much  fancy,  great  richness  of  description, 
and  true  poetry  for  his  imagery  and  colorings. — Phil.  Sat.  Courier 
(E.  Holden). 

Poe  can  throw  a  chain  of  enchantment  around  every  scene  he 
attempts  to  describe,  and  one  of  his  peculiarities  consists  in  the  per¬ 
fect  harmony  between  each  locate  and  the  characters  introduced.  He 
has  certainly  written  some  of  the  most  popular  tales  of  American 
origin. — Baltimore  Post  (Dr.  J.  Evans  Snodgrass). 

He  is  excellent  at  caricature  and  satire. —  Richmond  Compiler. 

He  is  one  of  the  very  few  American  writers  who  blend  philosophy 

common  sense,  humor  and  poetry  smoothly  together . 

He  lays  his  hand  upon  the  wild  steeds  of  his  imagination,  and  they 
plunge  furiously  through  storm  and  tempest,  or  foam  along  through 
the  rattling  thunder-cloud  ;  or,  at  his  bidding,  they  glide  swiftly  and 
noiselessly  along  the  quiet  and  dreamy  lake,  or  among  the  whispering 

bowers  of  thought  and  feeling . There  are  few  writers 

in  this  country — take  Neal,  Irving,  and  Willis  away,  and  we  would 
say  none — who  can  compete  successfully  in  many  respects  with  Poe. 
With  an  acuteness  of  observation,  a  vigorous  and  effective  style,  and 
an  independence  that  defies  control,  he  unites  a  fervid  fancy  and  a 
most  beautiful  enthusiasm.  His  is  a  high  destiny. —  St.  Louis  Com¬ 
mercial  Bulletin. 


TALES 


OF  THE 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


BY  EDGAR  A.  POE. 


Seltsamen  tocliter  Jovis 
Seinem  schosskinde 
Der  Phantasie. 

Goethe. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  II. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LEA  AND  BLANCHARD. 
1  840. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1839,  by 
Edgar  A.  Poe,  in  the  clerk’s  office  for  the  eastern  district  of  Penn¬ 
sylvania. 


Printed  by 

Haswell,  Barrington,  and  Haswid! 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  II 


Page 

EPIMANES . 5 

SIOPE . 19 

HANS  PHAALL . 25 

A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM  .....  97 

VON  JUNG  105 

LOSS  OF  BREATH  .*....  123 

METZENGERSTEIN  .  .  .  .  .  .151 

BERENICE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  167 

WHY  THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN  WEARS  HIS  HAND  IN 

A  SLING  .......  183 

THE  VISIONARY  .  .  .  .  .  .  193 

THE  CONVERSATION  OF  EIROS  AND  CHARMION  .  213 

APPENDIX  .......  223 


+  ■* 


' 

4  •  ' 


TALES 


OF 


THE  GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESftUE, 


E  P  I  M  A  N  E  S . 


Chacun  a  ses  vertus. 

Crcbillon's  Xerxes. 

Antiochus  Epiphanes  is  very  generally  looked 
upon  as  the  Gog  of  the  prophet  Ezekiel.  This  honor 
is,  however,  more  properly  attributable  to  Cambyses, 
the  son  of  Cyrus.  And,  indeed,  the  character  of  the 
Syrian  monarch  does  by  no  means  stand  in  need  of 
any  adventitious  embellishment.  His  accession  to 
the  throne,  or  rather  his  usurpation  of  the  sovereignty, 
a  hundred  and  seventy-one  years  before  the  coming 
of  Christ  —  his  attempt  to  plunder  the  temple  of 
Diana  at  Ephesus  —  his  implacable  hostility  to  the 
VOL.  II. — 2 


6 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Jews  —  his  pollution  of  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and  his 
miserable  death  at  Taba,  after  a  tumultuous  reign  of 
eleven  years,  are  circumstances  of  a  prominent  kind, 
and  therefore  more  generally  noticed  by  the  histo¬ 
rians  of  his  time  than  the  impious,  dastardly,  cruel, 
silly,  and  whimsical  achievements  which  make  up 
the  sum  total  of  his  private  life  and  reputation. 


^  ^ 

Let  us  suppose,  gentle  reader,  that  it  is  now  the 
year  of  the  world  three  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
thirty,  and  let  us,  for  a  few  minutes,  imagine  our¬ 
selves  at  that  most  grotesque  habitation  of  man,  the 
remarkable  city  of  Antioch.  To  be  sure  there  were, 
in  Syria  and  other  countries,  sixteen  cities  of  that 
name  besides  the  one  to  which  I  more  particularly 
allude.  But  ours  is  that  which  went  by  the  name  of 
Antiochia  Epidaphne,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  little 
village  of  Daphne,  where  stood  a  temple  to  that 
divinity.  It  w7as  built  (although  about  this  matter 
there  is  some  dispute)  by  Seleucus  Nicanor,  the  first 
king  of  the  country  after  Alexander  the  Great,  in 
memory  of  his  father  Antiochus,  and  became  imme¬ 
diately  the  residence  of  the  Syrian  monarchy.  In 
the  flourishing  times  of  the  Roman  empire,  it  was  the 
ordinary  station  of  the  prefect  of  the  eastern  pro¬ 
vinces  ;  and  many  of  the  emperors  of  the  queen  city, 
(among  whom  may  be  mentioned,  most  especially, 
Yerus  and  Valens,)  spent  here  the  greater  part  of 


EPIMANES. 


/ 


their  time.  But  I  perceive  we  have  arrived  at  the 
city  itself.  Let  us  ascend  this  battlement,  and  throw 
our  eyes  around  upon  the  town  and  neighboring 
country. 

What  broad  and  rapid  river  is  that  which  forces 
its  way  with  innumerable  falls,  through  the  moun¬ 
tainous  wilderness,  and  finally  through  the  wilderness 
of  buildings  ? 

O 

That  is  the  Orontes,  and  the  only  water  in  sight, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Mediterranean,  which 
stretches,  like  a  broad  mirror,  about  twelve  miles  off 
to  the  southward.  Every  one  has  beheld  the  Medi¬ 
terranean  ;  but,  let  me  tell  you,  there  are  few  who 
have  had  a  peep  at  Antioch.  By  few,  I  mean  few 
who,  like  you  and  I,  have  had,  at  the  same  time,  the 
advantages  of  a  modern  education.  Therefore  cease 
to  regard  that  sea,  and  give  your  whole  attention  to 
the  mass  of  houses  that  lie  beneath  us.  You  will 
remember  that  it  is  now  the  year  of  the  world  three 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty.  Were  it  later  — 
for  example,  were  it  unfortunately  the  year  of  our 
Lord  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-nine,  we  should  be 
deprived  of  this  extraordinary  spectacle.  In  the 
nineteenth  century  Antioch  is  —  that  is,  Antioch  will 
be,  in  a  lamentable  state  of  decay.  It  will  have  been, 
by  that  time,  totally  destroyed,  at  three  different 
periods,  by  three  successive  earthquakes.  Indeed,  to 
say  the  truth,  what  little  of  its  former  self  may  then 
remain,  will  be  found  in  so  desolate  and  ruinous  a 
state,  that  the  patriarch  will  have  removed  his  resi¬ 
dence  to  Damascus.  This  is  well.  I  see  you  profit 


8 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


by  my  advice,  and  are  making  the  most  of  your 
time  in  inspecting  the  premises  —  in 

- satisfying  your  eyes 

With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  most  renown  this  city. 

I  beg  pardon  —  I  had  forgotten  that  Shakspeare  will 
not  flourish  for  nearly  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty 
years  to  come.  But  does  not  the  appearance  of 
Epidaphne  justify  me  in  calling  it  grotesque? 

It  is  well  fortified  —  and  in  this  respect  is  as  much 
indebted  to  nature  as  to  art. 

Very  true. 

There  are  a  prodigious  number  of  stately  palaces. 

There  are. 

And  the  numerous  temples,  sumptuous  and  mag¬ 
nificent,  may  bear  comparison  with  the  most  lauded 
of  antiquity. 

All  this  I  must  acknowledge.  Still  there  is  an 
infinity  of  mud  huts  and  abominable  hovels.  We 
cannot  help  perceiving  abundance  of  filth  in  every 
kennel,  and,  were  it  not  for  the  overpowering  fumes 
of  idolatrous  incense,  I  have  no  doubt  we  should  find 
a  most  intolerable  stench.  Did  you  ever  behold 
streets  so  insufferably  narrow,  or  houses  so  miracu¬ 
lously  tallt  What  a  gloom  their  shadows  cast  upon 
the  ground  !  It  is  well  the  swinging  lamps  in  those 
endless  colonnades  are  kept  burning  throughout  the 
day  —  we  should  otherwise  have  the  darkness  of 
Egypt  in  the  time  of  her  desolation. 


EPIMANES. 


9 


It  is  certainly  a  strange  place  !  What  is  the  mean¬ 
ing  of  yonder  singular  building?  See  !  —  it  towers 
above  all  others,  and  lies  to  the  eastward  of  what  I 
take  to  be  the  royal  palace. 

That  is  the  new  Temple  of  the  Sun,  who  is  adored 
in  Syria  under  the  title  of  Elah  Gabalah.  Hereafter 
a  very  notorious  Roman  emperor  will  institute  this 
worship  in  Rome,  and  thence  derive  a  cognomen 
Heliogabalus.  I  dare  say  you  would  like  a  peep  at 
the  divinity  of  the  temple.  You  need  not  look  up  at 
the  heavens,  his  Sunship  is  not  there  —  at  least  not 
the  Sunship  adored  by  the  Syrians.  That  deity  will 
be  found  in  the  interior  of  yonder  building.  He  is 
worshipped  under  the  figure  of  a  large  stone  pillar 
terminating  at  the  summit  in  a  cone  or  pyramid , 
whereby  is  denoted  Fire. 

Hark  !  —  behold  !  —  who  can  those  ridiculous  be¬ 
ings  be  —  half  naked  —  with  their  faces  painted  — 
shouting  and  gesticulating  to  the  rabble  ? 

Some  few  are  mountebanks.  Others  more  parti¬ 
cularly  belong  to  the  race  of  philosophers.  The 
greatest  portion,  however  —  those  especially  who 
belabor  the  populace  with  clubs  —  are  the  principal 
courtiers  of  the  palace,  executing,  as  in  duty  bound, 
some  laudable  comicality  of  the  king’s. 

But  what  have  we  here  ?  Heavens  !  —  the  town 
is  swarming  with  wild  beasts  !  How  terrible  a  spec¬ 
tacle  !  —  how  dangerous  a  peculiarity  ! 

Terrible,  if  you  please  ;  but  not  in  the  least  degree 
dangerous.  Each  animal,  if  you  will  take  the  pains 

VOL.  II. — 3 


10  grotesque  and  arabesque. 

to  observe,  is  following,  very  quietly,  in  the  wake  of 
its  master.  Some  few,  to  be  sure,  are  led  with  a 
rope  about  the  neck,  but  these  are  chiefly  the  lesser  or 
more  timid  species.  The  lion,  the  tiger,  and  the  leopard 
are  entirely  without  restraint.  They  have  been 
trained  without  difficulty  to  their  present  profession, 
and  attend  upon  their  respective  owners  in  the 
capacity  of  valets-de-chambre.  It  is  true,  there  are 
occasions  when  Nature  asserts  her  violated  dominion 
■ —  but  then  the  devouring  of  a  man-at-arms,  or  the 
throtling  of  a  consecrated  bull,  are  circumstances 
of  too  little  moment  to  be  more  than  hinted  at  in 
Epidaphne. 

But  what  extraordinary  tumult  do  I  hear  ?  Surely 
this  is  a  loud  noise  even  for  Antioch  !  It  argues  some 
commotion  of  unusual  interest. 

Yes  —  undoubtedly.  The  king  has  ordered  some 
novel  spectacle  —  some  gladiatorial  exhibition  at  the 
Hippodrome — or  perhaps  the  massacre  of  the  Scy¬ 
thian  prisoners  —  or  the  conflagration  of  his  new 
palace  —  or  the  tearing  down  of  a  handsome  temple 
—  or,  indeed,  a  bonfire  of  a  few  Jews.  The  uproar 
increases.  Shouts  of  laughter  ascend  the  skies. 
The  air  becomes  dissonant  with  wind  instruments, 
and  horrible  with  the  clamor  of  a  million  throats. 
Let  us  descend,  for  the  love  of  fun,  and  see  what  is 
going  on.  This  way  —  be  careful.  Here  we  are  in 
the  principal  street,  which  is  called  the  street  of 
Timarchus.  The  sea  of  people  is  coming  this  way, 
and  we  shall  find  a  difficulty  in  stemming  the  tide. 


EPIMANES. 


11 


They  are  pouring  through  the  alley  of  Heraclides, 
which  leads  directly  from  the  palace  —  therefore  the 
king  is  most  probably  among  the  rioters.  Yes  —  I 
hear  the  shouts  of  the  herald  proclaiming  his  approach 
in  the  pompous  phraseology  of  the  East.  We  shall 
have  a  glimpse  of  his  person  as  he  passes  by  the 
temple  of  Ashimah.  Let  us  ensconce  ourselves  in 
the  vestibule  of  the  sanctuary  —  he  will  be  here 
anon.  In  the  meantime  let  us  survey  this  image. 
What  is  it  ?  Oh,  it  is  the  god  Ashimah  in  proper 
person.  You  perceive,  however,  that  he  is  neither  a 
lamb,  nor  a  goat,  nor  a  satyr  —  neither  has  he  much 
resemblance  to  the  Pan  of  the  Arcadians.  Yet  all 
these  appearances  have  been  given  —  I  beg  pardon 
—  will  be  given  by  the  learned  of  future  ages  to  the 
Ashimah  of  the  Syrians.  Put  on  your  spectacles, 
and  tell  me  what  it  is.  What  is  it  1 

Bless  me,  it  is  an  ape ! 

True  —  a  baboon  ;  but  by  no  means  the  less  a  deity. 
His  name  is  a  derivation  of  the  Greek  Simla  —  what 
great  fools  are  antiquarians  !  But  see  !  —  see  !  — 
yonder  scampers  a  ragged  little  urchin.  Where  is 
he  going?  What  is  he  bawling  about?  What  does 
he  say  ?  Oh  !  —  he  says  the  king  is  coming  in  tri¬ 
umph  —  that  he  is  dressed  in  state  —  and  that  he  has 
just  finished  putting  to  death  with  his  own  hand  a 
thousand  chained  Israelitish  prisoners.  For  this 
exploit  the  ragamuffin  is  lauding  him  to  the  skies. 
Hark  !  —  here  comes  a  troop  of  a  similar  description. 
They  have  made  a  Latin  hymn  upon  the  valor  of  the 
king,  and  are  singing  it  as  they  go. 


12 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Mille,  mille,  mille, 

Mille,  mille,  mille, 

Decollavimus,  unus  homo  ! 

Mille,  mille,  mille,  mille,  decollavimus  ! 

Mille,  mille,  mille  ! 

Vivat  qui  mille  mille  occidit ! 

Tantum  vini  habet  nemo 
Quantum  sanguinis  effudit!* 

Which  may  be  thus  paraphrased  : 

A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 

A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 

We,  with  one  warrior,  have  slain! 

A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 

Sing  a  thousand  over  again ! 

Soho  !  —  let  us  sing 
Long  life  to  our  king, 

Who  knocked  over  a  thousand  so  fine  ! 

Soho  !  —  let  us  roar, 

He  has  given  us  more 

Red  gallons  of  gore 

Than  all  Syria  can  furnish  of  wine  ! 

Do  you  hear  that  flourish  of  trumpets  ? 

Yes  —  the  king  is  coming!  See!  —  the  people 
are  aghast  with  admiration,  and  lift  up  their  eyes  to 
the  heavens  in  reverence.  He  comes  — he  is  coming 
—  there  he  is  ! 

Who  1  —  where  ?  —  the  king  1  do  not  behold 
him  —  cannot  say  that  I  perceive  him. 

*  Flavius  Yopiscus  says  that  the  hymn  which  is  here  intro¬ 
duced,  was  sung  by  the  rabble  upon  the  occasion  of  Aurelian,  in 
tke  Sarmatic  war,  having  slain  with  his  own  hand  nine  hundred 
and  fifty  of  the  enemy. 


EPIMANES. 


13 


Then  you  must  be  blind. 

Very  possible.  Still  I  see  nothing  but  a  tumultu¬ 
ous  mob  of  idiots  and  madmen,  who  are  busy  in 
prostrating  themselves  before  a  gigantic  camelopard, 
and  endeavoring  to  obtain  a  kiss  of  the  animal’s 
hoofs.  See  !  the  beast  has  very  justly  kicked  one  of 
the  rabble  over —  and  another  —  and  another —  and 
another.  Indeed  I  cannot  help  admiring  the  animal 
for  the  excellent  use  he  is  making  of  his  feet. 

Rabble,  indeed  !  —  why  these  are  the  noble  and 
free  citizens  of  Epidaphne  !  Beast,  did  you  say  ?  — 
take  care  that  you  are  not  overheard.  Do  you  not 
perceive  that  the  animal  has  the  visage  of  a  man  1 
Why,  my  dear  sir,  that  camelopard  is  no  other  than 
Antiochus  Epiphanes,  Antiochus  the  Illustrious,  King 
of  Syria,  and  the  most  potent  of  the  autocrats  of  the 
East !  It  is  true  that  he  is  entitled,  at  times,  Anti¬ 
ochus  Epimanes,  Antiochus  the  madman  —  but  that  is 
because  all  people  have  not  the  capacity  to  appreciate 
his  merits.  It  is  also  certain  that  he  is  at  present 
ensconced  in  the  hide  of  a  beast,  and  is  doing  his 
best  to  play  the  part  of  a  camelopard  —  but  this  is 
done  for  the  better  sustaining  his  dignity  as  king. 
Besides,  the  monarch  is  of  a  gigantic  stature,  and 
the  dress  is  therefore  neither  unbecoming  nor  over 
large.  We  may,  however,  presume  he  would  not 
have  adopted  it  but  for  some  occasion  of  especial 
state.  Such  you  will  allow  is  the  massacre  of  a 
thousand  Jews.  With  how  superior  a  dignity  the 
monarch  perambulates  upon  all  fours!  His  tail, you 
perceive,  is  held  aloft  by  his  two  principal  concu- 
3* 


14 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


bines,  Elline  and  Argelais  ;  and  his  whole  appearance 
would  be  infinitely  prepossessing,  were  it  not  for  the 
protuberance  of  his  eyes,  which  will  certainly  start 
out  of  his  head,  and  the  queer  color  of  his  face,  which 
has  become  nondescript  from  the  quantity  of  wine 
he  has  swallowed.  Let  us  follow  to  the  hippodrome,, 
whither  he  is  proceeding,  and  listen  to  the  song  of 
triumph  which  he  is  commencing  : 

Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes  1 

Say  —  do  you  know? 

Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes  ? 

Bravo  —  bravo  ! 

There  is  none  but  Epiphanes, 

No  —  there  is  none  : 

So  tear  down  the  temples, 

And  put  out  the  sun  ! 

Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Say  —  do  you  know? 

Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Bravo  —  bravo ! 

Well  and  strenuously  sung!  The  populace  are 
hailing  him  ‘  Prince  of  Poets,’  as  well  as  ‘  Glory  of 
the  East,’  ‘  Delight  of  the  Universe,’  and  ‘  most 
remarkable  of  Camelopards.’  They  have  encored. 
his  effusion  —  and,,  do  you  hear? — he  is  singing  it 
over  again.  When  he  arrives  at  the  hippodrome 
he  will  be  crowned  with  the  poetic  wreath,  in  antici¬ 
pation  of  his  victory  at  the  approaching  Olympics. 

But,  good  Jupiter!  —  what  is  the  matter  in  the 
crowd  behind  us  ? 

Behind  us,  did  you  say  ?  —  oh  !  —  ah !  —  I  per- 


EPIMANES. 


15 


eeive.  My  friend,  it  is  well  that  you  spoke  in  time. 
Let  us  get  into  a  place  of  safety  as  soon  as  possible. 
Here !  —  let  us  conceal  ourselves  in  the  arch  of  this 
aqueduct,  and  I  will  inform  you  presently  of  the 
origin  of  this  commotion.  It  has  turned  out  as  I 
have  been  anticipating.  The  singular  appearance 
of  the  camelopard  with  the  head  of  a  man,  has,  it 
seems,  given  offence  to  the  notions  of  propriety  en¬ 
tertained  in  general  by  the  wild  animals  domesticated 
in  the  city.  A  mutiny  has  been  the  result,  and,  as  is 
usual  upon  such  occasions,  all  human  efforts  will  be 
of  no  avail  in  quelling  the  mob.  Several  of  the 
Syrians  have  already  been  devoured  —  but  the  gen¬ 
eral  voice  of  the  four-footed  patriots  seems  to  be  for 
eating  up  the  camelopard.  ‘  The  Prince  of  Poets/ 
therefore,  is  upon  his  hinder  legs,  and  running  for 
his  life.  His  courtiers  have  left  him  in  the  lurch, 
and  his  concubines  have  let  fall  his  tail.  ‘  Delight  of 
the  Universe/  thou  art  in  a  sad  predicament  !  ‘  Glory 
of  the  East/  thou  art  in  danger  of  mastication  ! 
Therefore  never  regard  so  piteously  thy  tail  —  it 
will  undoubtedly  be  draggled  in  the  mud,  and  for  this 
there  is  no  help.  Look  not  behind  thee,  then,  at  its 
unavoidable  degradation  —  but  take  courage  —  ply 
thy  legs  with  vigor  —  and  scud  for  the  hippodrome  ! 
Remember  that  thou  art  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  Anti- 
ochus  the  Illustrious  !  —  also  ‘  Prince  of  Poets/ 
‘Glory  of  the  East,  ‘Delight  of  the  Universe/  and 
‘  most  remarkable  of  Camelopards  !’  Heavens  ! 
what  a  power  of  speed  thou  art  displaying  !  What 


16 


GROTESQUE  AN'D  ARABESQUE. 


a  capacity  for  leg-bail  thou  art  developing  !  Run, 
Prince!  Bravo,  Epiphanes  !  Well  done,  Camelopard! 
Glorious  Antiochus  !  He  runs  !  —  he  moves  !  —  he 
flies !  Like  a  shell  from  a  catapult  he  approaches 
the  hippodrome!  He  leaps! — he  shrieks!  —  he  is 
there  !  This  is  well  —  for  hadst  thou,  ‘  Glory  of  the 
East,’  been  half  a  second  longer  in  reaching  the 
gates  of  the  amphitheatre,  there  is  not  a  bear’s  cub 
in  Epidaphne  who  would  not  have  had  a  nibble  at 
thy  carcass.  Let  us  be  off — let  us  take  our  depart¬ 
ure! —  for  we  shall  find  our  delicate  modern  ears 
unable  to  endure  the  vast  uproar  which  is  about  to 
commence  in  celebration  of  the  king’s  escape ! 
Listen  !  it  has  already  commenced.  See  !  —  the 
whole  town  is  topsy-turvy. 

Surely  this  is  the  most  populous  city  of  the  East ! 
What  a  wilderness  of  people  !  what  a  jumble  of  all 
ranks  and  ages  !  what  a  multiplicity  of  sects  and 
nations !  what  a  variety  of  costumes !  what  a  Babel 
of  languages !  what  a  screaming  of  beasts  !  what  a 
tinkling  of  instruments  !  what  a  parcel  of  philoso¬ 
phers  ! 

Come  let  us  be  off! 

Stay  a  moment !  I  see  a  vast  hubbub  in  the 
hippodrome — what  is  the  meaning  of  it,  I  beseech 
you? 

That  ?  —  oh  nothing  !  The  noble  and  free  citi¬ 
zens  of  Epidaphne  being,  as  they  declare,  well  satisfied 
of  the  faith,  valor,  wisdom,  and  divinity  of  their 
king,  and  having,  moreover,  been  eye-witnesses  of 


EPIMAXES. 


17 


his  late  superhuman  agility,  do  think  it  no  more  than 
their  duty  to  invest  his  brows  (in  addition  to  the 
poetic  crown)  with  the  wreath  of  victory  in  the 
foot  race  —  a  wreath  which  it  is  evident  he  must 
obtain  at  the  celebration  of  the  next  Olympiad, 
and  which,  therefore,  they  now  give  him  in  ad¬ 
vance. 


0  . 

' 


SIOPE. 


19 


SIOPE. 

A  FABLE. 

[IN  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  AUTOBIOGRAPHISTS-l 

’ EvSouo-iv  cf’o £tu>v  > to^uQcti  T8  mu  cpctQcryyi c 
Ilgam  n  mu  ^apuS^cu- 

Aleman, 


“  Listen  to  me”  said  the  Demon,  as  he  placed 
his  hand  upon  my  head.  “  There  is  a  spot  upon  this 
accursed  earth  which  thou  hast  never  yet  beheld 
And  if  by  any  chance  thou  hast  beheld  it,  it  must 
have  been  in  one  of  those  vigorous  dreams  which 
come  like  the  simoon  upon  the  brain  of  the  sleeper 
who  hath  lain  down  to  sleep  among  the  forbidden 
sunbeams —  among  the  sunbeams,  I  say,  which  slide 
from  off  the  solemn  columns  of  the  melancholy  temples 
in  the  wilderness.  The  region  of  which  I  speak  is  a 
dreary  region  in  Libya,  by  the  borders  of  the  river 
Zaire.  And  there  is  no  quiet  there,  nor  silence. 

“  The  waters  of  the  river  have  a  saffron  and  sickly 
hue  —  and  they  flow  not  onwards  to  the  sea,  but 
palpitate  forever  and  forever  beneath  the  red  eye  of 


20 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  sun  with  a  tumultuous  and  convulsive  motion. 
For  many  miles  on  either  side  of  the  river’s  oozy  bed 
is  a  pale  desert  of  gigantic  water-lilies.  They  sigh 
one  unto  the  other  in  that  solitude,  and  stretch 
towards  the  heaven  their  long  ghastly  necks,  and  nod 
to  and  fro  their  everlasting  heads.  And  there  is  an 
indistinct  murmur  which  cometh  out  from  among 
them  like  the  rushing  of  subterrene  water.  And  they 
sigh  one  unto  the  other. 

“  But  there  is  a  boundary  to  their  realm  —  the 
boundary  of  the  dark,  horrible,  lofty  forest.  There, 
like  the  waves  about  the  Hebrides,  the  low  under¬ 
wood  is  agitated  continually.  But  there  is  no  wind 
throughout  the  heaven.  And  the  tall  primeval  trees 
rock  eternally  hither  and  thither  with  a  crashing  and 
mighty  sound.  And  from  their  high  summits,  one  by 
one,  drop  everlasting  dews.  And  at  the  roots  strange 
poisonous  flowers  lie  writhing  in  perturbed  slumber. 
And  overhead,  with  a  rustling  and  loud  noise,  the 
gray  clouds  rush  westwardly  forever,  until  they  roll, 
a  cataract,  over  the  fiery  wall  of  the  horizon.  But 
there  is  no  wind  throughout  the  heaven.  And  by  the 
shores  of  the  river  Zaire  there  is  neither  quiet  nor 
silence. 

“  It  was  night,  and  the  rain  fell ;  and,  falling,  it 
was  rain,  but,  having  fallen,  it  was  blood.  And  I 
stood  in  the  morass  among  the  tall  lilies,  and  the  rain 
fell  upon  my  head  —  and  the  lilies  sighed  one  unto  the 
other  in  the  solemnity  of  their  desolation. 

“  And,  all  at  once,  the  moon  arose  through  the 
thin  ghastly  mist,  and  was  crimson  in  color.  And 


SIOPE. 


21 


mine  eyes  fell  upon  a  huge  gray  rock  which  stood 
by  the  shore  of  the  river,  and  was  litten  by  the  light 
of  the  moon.  And  the  rock  was  gray,  and  ghastly, 
and  tall,  —  and  the  rock  was  gray.  Upon  its  front 
were  characters  engraven  in  the  stone  ;  and  I  walked 
through  the  morass  of  water-lilies,  until  I  came  close 
unto  the  shore,  that  I  might  read  the  characters  upon 
the  stone.  But  I  could  not  decypher  the  characters. 
And  I  was  going  back  into  the  morass,  when  the 
moon  shone  with  a  fuller  red,  and  I  turned  and  looked 
again  upon  the  rock,  and  upon  the  characters  —  and 
the  characters  were  desolation. 

“  And  I  looked  upwards,  and  there  stood  a  man 
upon  the  summit  of  the  rock,  and  J  hid  myself  among 
the  water-lilies  that  I  might  discover  the  actions  of 
the  man.  And  the  man  was  tall  and  stately  in  form, 
and  was  wrapped  up  from  his  shoulders  to  his  feet 
in  the  toga  of  old  Rome.  And  the  outlines  of  his 
figure  were  indistinct  —  but  his  features  were  the 
features  of  a  deity ;  for  the  mantle  of  the  night,  and 
of  the  mist,  and  of  the  moon,  and  of  the  dew,  had 
left  uncovered  the  features  of  his  face.  And  his  brow 
was  lofty  with  thought,  and  his  eye  wild  with  care ; 
and,  in  the  few  furrows  upon  his  cheek  I  read  the 
fables  of  sorrow,  and  weariness,  and  disgust  with 
mankind,  and  a  longing  after  solitude. 

“  And  the  man  sat  down  upon  the  rock,  and  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  looked  out  upon  the  de¬ 
solation.  He  looked  down  into  the  low  unquiet 
shrubbery,  and  up  into  the  tall  primeval  trees,  and 
up  higher  at  the  rustling  heaven,  and  into  the  crimson 

VOL.  II. — 4 


22 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


moon.  And  1  lay  close  within  shelter  of  the  lilies, 
and  observed  the  actions  of  the  man.  And  the  man 
trembled  in  the  solitude  —  but  the  night  waned  and 
he  sat  upon  the  rock. 

“  And  the  man  turned  his  attention  from  the  heaven, 
and  looked  out  upon  the  dreary  river  Zaire,  and  upon 
the  yellow  ghastly  waters,  and  upon  the  pale  legions 
of  the  water-lilies.  And  the  man  listened  to  the 
sighs  of  the  water-lilies,  and  to  the  murmur  that  came 
up  from  among  them.  And  I  lay  close  within  my 
covert  and  observed  the  actions  of  the  man.  And  the 
man  trembled  in  the  solitude  —  but  the  night  waned 
and  he  sat  upon  the  rock. 

“  Then  I  went  down  into  the  recesses  of  the 
morass,  and  waded  afar  in  among  the  wilderness  of 
the  lilies,  and  called  unto  the  hippopotami  which 
dwelt  among  the  fens  in  the  recesses  of  the  morass. 
And  the  hippopotami  heard  my  call,  and  came,  with 
the  behemoth,  unto  the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  roared 
loudly  and  fearfully  beneath  the  moon.  And  I  lay 
close  within  my  covert  and  observed  the  actions  of 
the  man.  And  the  man  trembled  in  the  solitude  — 
but  the  night  waned  and  he  sat  upon  the  rock. 

“  Then  1  cursed  the  elements  with  the  curse  of 
tumult;  and  a  frightful  tempest  gathered  in  the 
heaven  where  before  there  had  been  no  wind.  And 
the  heaven  became  livid  with  the  violence  of  the 
tempest  —  and  the  rain  beat  upon  the  head  of  the 
man  —  and  the  floods  of  the  river  came  down  —  and 
the  river  was  tormented  into  foam  —  and  the  water- 
lilies  shrieked  within  their  beds  —  and  the  forest 


SIOPE. 


23 


crumbled  before  the  wind  —  and  the  thunder  rolled, 

—  and  the  lightning  fell  —  and  the  rock  rocked  to 
its  foundation.  And  I  lay  close  within  my  covert 
and  observed  the  actions  of  the  man.  And  the  man 
trembled  in  the  solitude  —  but  the  night  waned  and 
he  sat  upon  the  rock. 

“Then  I  grew  angry  and  cursed,  with  the  curse  of 
silence,  the  river,  and  the  lilies,  and  the  wind,  and 
the  forest,  and  the  heaven,  and  the  thunder,  and  the 
sighs  of  the  water-lilies.  And  they  became  accursed 
and  were  still.  And  the  moon  ceased  to  totter  in  its 
pathway  up  the  heaven  —  and  the  thunder  died  away 

—  and  the  lightning  did  not  flash  —  and  the  clouds 
hung  motionless  —  and  the  waters  sunk  to  their  level 
and  remained  —  and  the  trees  ceased  to  rock  • —  and 
the  water-lilies  sighed  no  more — and  the  murmur 
was  heard  no  longer  from  among  them,  nor  any 
shadow  of  sound  throughout  the  vast  illimitable  desert. 
And  I  looked  upon  the  characters  of  the  rock,  and 
they  were  changed  —  and  the  characters  were 

SILENCE. 

“And  mine  eyes  fell  upon  the  countenance  of  the 
man,  and  his  countenance  was  wan  with  terror.  And, 
hurriedly,  he  raised  his  head  from  his  hand,  and  stood 
forth  upon  the  rock,  and  listened.  But  there  w7as  no 
voice  throughout  the  vast  illimitable  desert,  and  the 
characters  upon  the  rock  were  silence.  And  the 
man  shuddered,  and  turned  his  face  away,  and  fled 
afar  off,  and  I  beheld  him  no  more.” 

******** 


24 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Now  there  are  fine  tales  in  the  volumes  of  the 
Magi  —  in  the  iron-bound,  melancholy  volumes  of  the 
Magi.  Therein,  I  say,  are  glorious  histories  of  the 
Heaven,  and  of  the  Earth,  and  of  the  mighty  Sea  — 
and  of  the  Genii  that  over-ruled  the  sea,  and  the  earth, 
and  the  lofty  heaven.  There  was  much  lore  too  in 
the  sayings  which  were  said  by  the  sybils ;  and  holy, 
holy  things  were  heard  of  old  by  the  dim  leaves  that 
trembled  around  Dodona  —  but,  as  Allah  liveth,  that 
fable  which  the  Demon  told  me  as  he  sat  by  my  side 
in  the  shadow  of  the  tomb,  I  hold  to  be  the  most 
wonderful  of  all !  And  as  the  Demon  made  an  end 
of  his  story,  he  fell  back  within  the  cavity  of  the 
tomb  and  laughed.  And  I  could  not  laugh  with  the 
Demon,  and  he  cursed  me  because  I  could  not  laugh. 
And  the  lynx  which  dwelleth  forever  in  the  tomb, 
came  out  therefrom,  and  lay  down  at  the  feet  of  the 
Demon,  and  looked  at  him  steadily  in  the  face. 


HAN'S  PHAALL. 


25 


HANS  PHAALL.* 

By  late  accounts  from  Rotterdam  that  city  seems 
to  be  in  a  high  state  of  philosophical  excitement. 
Indeed  phenomena  have  there  occurred  of  a  nature 
so  completely  unexpected,  so  entirely  novel,  so  utterly 
at  variance  with  preconceived  opinions,  as  to  leave 
no  doubt  on  my  mind  that  long  ere  this  all  Europe 
is  in  an  uproar,  all  physics  in  a  ferment,  all  dynamics 
and  astronomy  together  by  the  ears. 

It  appears  that  on  the - day  of - ,  (1  am  not 

positive  about  the  date,)  a  vast  crowd  of  people,  for 

♦There  is,  strictly  speaking,  but  little  similarity  between 
this  sketchy  trifle  and  the  very  celebrated  and  very  beautiful 
“  Moon-story”  of  Mr.  Locke  —  but  as  both  have  the  character 
of  hoaxes ,  (although  the  one  is  in  a  tone  of  banter,  the  other  of 
downright  earnest,)  and  as  both  hoaxes  are  on  the  same  subject, 
the  moon  —  the  author  of  “  Hans  Phaall  ”  thinks  it  necessary 
to  say,  in  self-defence,  that  his  own  jeu-d’esprit  was  published, 
in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  about  three  weeks  previously 
to  the  appearance  of  Mr.  L.’s,  in  the  New  York  “Sun."  Fancy¬ 
ing  a  similarity  which  does  not  really  exist,  some  of  the  New 
York  papers  copied  Hans  Phaall,  and  collated  it  with  the  Hoax 
—  with  the  view  of  detecting  the  writer  of  the  one  in  the 
writer  of  the  other. 

4* 


26 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


purposes  not  specifically  mentioned,  were  assembled 
in  the  great  square  of  the  Exchange  in  the  well-con¬ 
ditioned  city  of  Rotterdam.  The  day  was  warm  — 
unusually  so  for  the  season- — there  was  hardly  a 
breath  of  air  stirring,  and  the  multitude  were  in  no 
bad  humor  at  being  now  and  then  besprinkled  with 
friendly  showers  of  momentary  duration.  These 
occasionally  fell  from  large  white  masses  of  cloud 
which  chequered  in  a  fitful  manner  the  blue  vault  of 
the  firmament.  Nevertheless  about  noon  a  slight  but 
remarkable  agitation  became  apparent  in  the  assem¬ 
bly  ;  the  clattering  of  ten  thousand  tongues  succeeded  ; 
and  in  an  instant  afterwards  ten  thousand  faces  were 
upturned  towards  the  heavens,  ten  thousand  pipes 
descended  simultaneously  from  the  corners  of  ten 
thousand  mouths,  and  a  shout  which  could  be  com¬ 
pared  to  nothing  but  the  roaring  of  Niagara  resounded 
long,  loud,  and  furiously,  through  all  the  environs  of 
Rotterdam. 

The  origin  of  this  hubbub  soon  became  sufficiently 
evident.  From  behind  the  huge  bulk  of  one  of  those 
sharply-defined  masses  of  cloud  already  mentioned, 
was  seen  slowly  to  emerge  into  an  open  area  of  blue 
space,  a  queer,  heterogeneous,  but  apparently  solid 
body  or  substance,  so  oddly  shaped,  so  whimsically 
put  together,  as  not  to  be  in  any  manner  compre¬ 
hended,  and  never  to  be  sufficiently  admired,  by  the 
host  of  sturdy  burghers  who  stood  open-mouthed 
below.  What  could  it  be  ?  In  the  name  of  all  the 
vrows  and  devils  in  Rotterdam,  what  could  it  possibly 
portend  ?  No  one  knew  —  no  one  could  imagine  — 


HANS  PHAALL. 


27 


no  one,  not  even  the  burgomaster  Mynheer  Superbus 
Yon  Underduk,  had  the  slightest  clue  by  which  to 
unravel  the  mystery ;  so,  as  nothing  more  reasonable 
could  be  done,  every  one  to  a  man  replaced  his  pipe 
carefully  in  the  left  corner  of  his  mouth,  and,  cock¬ 
ing  up  his  right  eye  towards  the  phenomenon,  puffed, 
paused,  waddled  about,  and  grunted  significantly  — 
then  waddled  back,  grunted,  paused,  and  finally  — 
puffed  again. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  lower  and  still  lower 
towards  the  goodly  city,  came  the  object  of  so  much 
curiosity,  and  the  cause  of  so  much  smoke.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  it  arrived  near  enough  to  be  accu¬ 
rately  discerned.  It  appeared  to  be  —  yes  !  it  was 
undoubtedly  a  species  of  balloon ;  but  surely  no  such 
balloon  had  ever  been  seen  in  Rotterdam  before. 
For  who,  let  me  ask,  ever  heard  of  a  balloon  entirely 
manufactured  of  dirty  newspapers  ?  No  man  in 
Holland  certainly  —  yet  here  under  the  very  noses 
of  the  people,  or  rather,  so  to  speak,  at  some  distance 
above  their  noses,  was  the  identical  thing  in  question, 
and  composed,  I  have  it  on  the  best  authority,  of  the 
precise  material  which  no  one  had  ever  known  to  be 
used  for  a  similar  purpose.  It  was  an  egregious  in¬ 
sult  to  the  good  sense  of  the  burghers  of  Rotterdam. 
As  to  the  shape  of  the  phenomenon  it  was  even  still 
more  reprehensible,  being  little  or  nothing  better  than 
a  huge  foolscap  turned  upside  down.  And  this 
similitude  was  by  no  means  lessened,  when,  upon 
nearer  inspection,  there  was  perceived  a  large  tassel 
depending  from  its  apex,  and  around  the  upper  rim 


28 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


or  base  of  the  cone  a  circle  of  little  instruments,  re¬ 
sembling  sheep-bells,  which  kept  up  a  continual 
tinkling  to  the  tune  of  Betty  Martin.  But  still  worse. 
Suspended  by  blue  ribbands  to  the  end  of  this  fantastic 
machine,  there  hung  by  way  of  car  an  enormous 
drab  beaver  hat,  with  a  brim  superlatively  broad,  and 
a  hemispherical  crown  with  a  black  band  and  a  sil¬ 
ver  buckle.  It  is,  however,  somewhat  remarkable, 
that  many  citizens  of  Rotterdam  swore  to  having 
seen  the  same  hat  repeatedly  before  ;  and  indeed  the 
whole  assembly  seemed  to  regard  it  with  eyes  of  fa¬ 
miliarity,  while  the  vrow  Grettel  Phaall,  upon  sight 
of  it,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joyful  surprise,  and 
declared  it  to  be  the  identical  hat  of  her  good  man 
himself.  Now  this  was  a  circumstance  the  more  to 
be  observed,  as  Phaall,  with  three  companions,  had 
actually  disappeared  from  Rotterdam  about  five 
years  before,  in  a  very  sudden  and  unaccountable 
manner,  and  up  to  the  date  of  this  narrative  all 
attempts  had  failed  of  obtaining  any  intelligence  con¬ 
cerning  them  whatsoever.  To  be  sure,  some  bones 
which  were  thought  to  be  human,  and  mixed  up  with 
a  quantity  of  odd-looking  rubbish,  had  been  lately 
discovered  in  a  retired  situation  to  the  east  of  Rot¬ 
terdam  ;  and  some  people  went  so  far  as  to  imagine 
that  in  this  spot  a  foul  murder  had  been  committed, 
and  that  the  sufferers  were  in  all  probability  Hans 
Phaall  and  his  associates.  But  to  return. 

The  balloon,  for  such  no  doubt  it  was,  had  now 
descended  to  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  earth, 
allowing  the  crowd  below  a  sufficiently  distinct  view 


HANS  PHAALL. 


29 


of  the  person  of  its  occupant.  This  was  in  truth  a 

very  droll  little  somebody.  He  could  not  have  been 

more  than  two  feet  in  height  —  but  this  altitude,  little 

as  it  was,  would  have  been  enough  to  destroy  his 

equilibrium,  and  tilt  him  over  the  edge  of  his  tiny  car, 

but  for  the  intervention  of  a  circular  rim  reaching  as 

high  as  the  breast,  and  rigged  on  to  the  cords  of  the 

balloon.  The  bodv  of  the  little  man  was  more  than 
* 

proportionally  broad,  giving  to  his  entire  figure  a 
rotundity  highly  absurd.  His  feet,  of  course,  could 
not  be  seen  at  all,  although  a  horny  substance  of 
suspicious  nature  was  occasionally  protruded  through 
a  rent  in  the  bottom  of  the  car,  or,  to  speak  more 
properly,  in  the  top  of  the  hat.  His  hands  were 
enormously  large.  His  hair  was  extremely  gray, 
and  collected  into  a  cue  behind.  His  nose  was  pro¬ 
digiously  long,  crooked  and  inflammatory  —  his  eyes 
full,  brilliant,  and  acute  —  his  chin  and  cheeks, 
although  wrinkled  with  age,  were  broad,  puffy,  and 
double  —  but  of  ears  of  any  kind  or  character,  there 
was  not  a  semblance  to  be  discovered  upon  any  por¬ 
tion  of  his  head.  This  odd  little  gentleman  was 
dressed  in  a  loose  surtout  of  sky-blue  satin,  with  tight 
breeches  to  match,  fastened  with  silver  buckles  at 
the  knees.  His  vest  was  of  some  bright  yellow 
material;  a  white  taffety  cap  was  set  jauntily  on  one 
side  of  his  head ;  and,  to  complete  his  equipment,  a 
blood-red  silk  handkerchief  enveloped  his  throat,  and 
fell  down,  in  a  dainty  manner,  upon  his  bosom,  in  a 
fantastic  bow-knot  of  supereminent  dimensions. 

Having  descended,  as  I  said  before,  to  about  one 


30 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE, 


hundred  feet  from  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  little 
old  gentleman  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fit  of  trepi¬ 
dation,  and  appeared  altogether  disinclined  to  make 
any  nearer  approach  to  terra  Jinna.  Throwing  out, 
therefore,  a  quantity  of  sand  from  a  canvass  bag, 
which  he  lifted  with  great  difficulty,  he  became  sta¬ 
tionary  in  an  instant.  He  then  proceeded,  in  a 
hurried  and  agitated  manner,  to  extract  from  a  side- 
pocket  of  his  surtout  a  large  morocco  pocket-book. 
This  he  poised  suspiciously  in  his  hand  — then  eyed 
it  with  an  air  of  extreme  surprise,  and  was  evidently 
astonished  at  its  weight.  He  at  length  opened  it, 
and  drawing  therefrom  a  huge  letter  sealed  with  red 
sealing-wax  and  tied  carefully  with  red  tape,  let  it 
fall  precisely  at  the  feet  of  the  burgomaster  Superbus 
Yon  Underduk.  His  Excellency  stooped  to  take  it 
up.  But  the  aeronaut,  still  greatly  discomposed,  and 
having  apparently  no  farther  business  to  detain  him 
in  Rotterdam,  began  at  this  moment  to  make  busy 
preparations  for  departure;  and,  it  being  necessary 
to  discharge  a  portion  of  ballast  to  enable  him  to 
reascend,  the  half  dozen  bags  of  sand  which  he  threw 
out,  one  after  another,  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
empty  their  contents,  tumbled,  every  one  of  them, 
most  unfortunately,  upon  the  back  of  the  burgomaster, 
and  rolled  him  over  and  over  no  less  than  one-and- 
twenty  times,  in  the  face  of  every  man  in  Rotterdam. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  great 
Underduk  suffered  this  impertinence  on  the  part  of 
the  little  old  man  to  pass  off  with  impunity.  It  is 
said,  on  the  contrary,  that,  during  the  period  of  each 


HANS  PHAALL. 


31 


and  every  one  of  his  one-and-twenty  circumvolutions, 
he  emitted  no  less  than  one-and-twenty  distinct  and 
furious  whiffs  from  his  pipe,  to  which  he  held  fast  the 
whole  time  with  all  his  might,  and  to  which  he 
intends  holding  fast  until  the  dav  of  his  death. 

In  the  meantime  the  balloon  arose  like  a  lark,  and, 
soaring  far  away  above  the  city,  at  length  drifted 
quietly  behind  a  cloud  similar  to  that  from  which  it 
had  so  oddly  emerged,  and  was  thus  lost  forever  to 
the  wondering  eyes  of  the  good  citizens  of  Rotter¬ 
dam.  All  attention  was  now  directed  to  the  letter, 
whose  descent  and  the  consequences  attending  there¬ 
upon  had  proved  so  fatally  subversive  of  both  person 
and  personal  dignity,  to  his  Excellency  the  illustrious 
Burgomaster  Mynheer  Superbus  Yon  Underduk. 
That  functionary,  however,  had  not  failed,  during  his 
circumgyratory  movement,  to  bestow  a  thought  upon 
the  important  object  of  securing  the  packet  in  ques¬ 
tion,  which  was  seen,  upon  inspection,  to  have  fallen 
into  the  most  proper  hands,  being  actually  directed 
to  himself  and  Professor  Rub-a-dub,  in  their  official 
capacities  of  President  and  Vice-President  of  the 
Rotterdam  College  of  Astronomy.  It  was  accord- 
ingly  opened  by  those  dignitaries  upon  the  spot,  and 
found  to  contain  the  following  extraordinary  and 
indeed  very  serious  communication. 

To  their  Excellencies  Yon  Underduk  and  Rub-a-dub, 
President  and  Vice-President  of  the  States’  College 
of  Astronomers  in  the  city  of  Rotterdam. 

Your  Excellencies  may  perhaps  be  able  to  remem- 


32 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


ber  an  humble  artizan  by  name  Hans  Phaall,  and  by 
occupation  a  mender  of  bellows,  who,  with  three 
others,  disappeared  from  Rotterdam,  about  five  years 
ago,  in  a  manner  which  must  have  been  considered 
by  all  parties  at  once  sudden,  and  extremely  unac¬ 
countable.  If,  however,  it  so  please  your  Excellen¬ 
cies,  I,  the  writer  of  this  communication,  am  the 
identical  Hans  Phaall  himself.  It  is  well  known  to 
most  of  my  fellow  citizens,  that  for  the  period  of 
forty  years,  I  continued  to  occupy  the  little  square 
brick  building  at  the  head  of  the  alley  called  Sauer¬ 
kraut,  and  in  which  I  resided  at  the  time  of  my  dis¬ 
appearance.  My  ancestors  have  also  resided  therein 
time  out  of  mind,  they,  as  well  as  myself,  steadily 
following  the  respectable  and  indeed  lucrative  pro¬ 
fession  of  mending  of  bellows.  For,  to  speak  the 
truth,  until  of  late  years  that  the  heads  of  all  the 
people  have  been  set  agog  with  the  troubles  and 
politics,  no  better  business  than  my  own  could  an 
honest  citizen  of  Rotterdam  either  desire  or  deserve. 
Credit  was  good,  employment  was  never  wanting, 
and  on  all  hands  there  was  no  lack  of  either  money 
or  good  will.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  we  soon  began 
to  feel  the  terrible  effects  of  liberty,  and  long  speeches, 
and  radicalism,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  People 
who  were  formerly  the  very  best  customers  in  the 
world  had  now  not  a  moment  of  time  to  think  of  us 
at  all.  They  had,  so  they  said,  as  much  as  they 
could  do  to  read  about  the  revolutions,  and  keep  up 
with  the  march  of  intellect,  and  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
If  a  fire  wanted  fanning  it  could  readily  be  fanned 


HANS  PHAALL. 


33 


with  a  newspaper  ;  and,  as  the  government  grew 
weaker,  I  have  no  doubt  that  leather  and  iron  acquired 
durability  in  proportion,  for  in  a  very  short  time 
there  was  not  a  pair  of  bellows  in  all  Rotterdam  that 
ever  stood  in  need  of  a  stiteh  or  required  the  assist¬ 
ance  of  a  hammer.  This  was  a  state  of  things  not 
to  be  endured.  I  soon  grew  as  poor  as  a  rat,  and, 
having  a  wife  and  children  to  provide  for,  my  burdens 
at  length  became  intolerable,  and  I  spent  hour  after 
hour  in  reflecting  upon  the  speediest  and  most  con¬ 
venient  method  of  putting  an  end  to  my  life.  Duns, 
in  the  meantime,  left  me  little  leisure  for  contemplation. 
My  house  was  literally  besieged  from  morning  till 
night,  so  that  I  began  to  rave,  and  foam,  and  fret  like 
a  caged  tiger  against  the  bars  of  his  enclosure. 
There  were  three  fellows  in  particular,  who  worried 
me  beyond  endurance,  keeping  watch  continually 
about  my  door,  and  threatening  me  with  the  utmost 
severity  of  the  law.  Upon  these  three  I  internally 
vowed  the  bitterest  revenge,  if  ever  I  should  be  so 
happy  as  to  get  them  within  my  clutches,  and  I 
believe  nothing  in  the  world  but  the  pleasure  of  this 
anticipation  prevented  me  from  putting  my  plan  of 
suicide  into  immediate  execution,  by  blowing  my 
brains  out  with  a  blunderbuss.  I  thought  it  best, 
however,  to  dissemble  my  wrath,  and  to  treat  them 
with  promises  and  fair  words,  until,  by  some  good 
turn  of  fate,  an  opportunity  of  vengeance  should  be 
afforded  me. 

One  day,  having  given  my  creditors  the  slip,  and 
feeling  more  than  usually  dejected,  I  continued  for  a 

VOL.  II. — 5 


84 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


long  time  to  wander  about  the  most  obscure  streets 
without  any  object  whatever,  until  at  length  I  chanced 
to  stumble  against  the  corner  of  a  bookseller’s  stall. 
Seeing  a  chair  close  at  hand,  for  the  use  of  customers, 
I  threw  mvself  doggedly  into  it,  and  hardly  knowing 
why,  opened  the  pages  of  the  first  volume  which 
came  within  my  reach.  It  proved  to  be  a  small 
pamphlet  treatise  on  Speculative  Astronomy,  written 
either  by  Professor  Encke  of  Berlin,  or  by  a  French¬ 
man  of  somewhat  similar  name.  1  had  some  little 
tincture  of  information  on  matters  of  this  nature,  and 
soon  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  the  contents 
of  the  book,  reading  it  actually  through  twice  before 
I  awoke,  as  it  were,  to  a  recollection  of  what  was 
passing  around  me.  By  this  time  it  began  to  growr 
dark,  and  I  directed  my  steps  towards  home.  But 
the  treatise  had  made  an  indelible  impression  on  my 
mind,  and  as  I  sauntered  along  the  dusky  streets,  I 
revolved  carefully  over  in  my  memory  the  wild  and 
sometimes  unintelligible  reasonings  of  the  writer. 
There  were  some  particular  passages  which  affected 
my  imagination  in  a  powerful  and  extraordinary 
manner.  The  longer  I  meditated  upon  these,  the  more 
intense  grew  the  interest  which  had  been  excited 
within  me.  The  limited  nature  of  my  education  in 
general,  and  more  especially  my  ignorance  on  subjects 
connected  with  natural  philosophy,  so  far  from  ren¬ 
dering  me  diffident  of  my  own  ability  to  comprehend 
what  I  had  read,  or  inducing  me  to  mistrust  the  many 
vague  notions  which  had  arisen  in  consequence, 
merely  served  as  a  farther  stimulus  to  imagination  5 


HANS  PHAALL. 


35 


and  I  was  vain  enough,  or  perhaps  reasonable  enough, 
to  doubt  whether  those  crude  ideas  which,  arising  in 
ill-regulated  minds,  have  all  the  appearance,  may  not 
often  in  effect  possess  also  the  force  —  the  reality  — 
and  other  inherent  properties  of  instinct  or  intuition ; 
and  whether,  to  proceed  a  step  farther,  profundity 
itself  might  not,  in  matters  of  a  purely  speculative 
nature,  be  detected  as  a  legitimate  source  of  falsity 
and  error.  In  other  words,  I  believed,  and  still  do 
believe,  that  truth  is  frequently,  of  its  own  essence, 
superficial,  and  that,  in  many  cases,  the  depth  lies 
more  in  the  abysses  where  we  seek  her,  than  in  the 
actual  situations  wherein  she  may  be  found.  Nature 
herself  seemed  to  afford  me  corroboration  of  these 
ideas.  In  the  contemplation  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
it  struck  me  forcibly  that  I  could  not  distinguish  a 
star  with  nearly  as  much  precision,  when  I  gazed 
upon  it  with  earnest,  direct,  and  undeviating  attention, 
as  when  I  suffered  my  eye  only  to  glance  in  its 
vicinity  alone.  I  was  not,  of  course,  at  that  time 
aware  that  this  apparent  paradox  was  occasioned  by 
the  centre  of  the  visual  area  being  less  susceptible  of 
feeble  impressions  of  light  than  the  exterior  portions 
of  the  retina.  This  knowledge,  and  seme  of  another 
kind,  came  afterwards  in  the  course  of  an  eventful 
period  of  five  years,  during  which  I  have  dropped 
the  prejudices  of  my  former  humble  situation  in  life, 
and  forgotten  the  bellows-mender  in  far  different  oc¬ 
cupations.  But  at  the  epoch  of  which  I  speak,  the 
analogy  which  the  casual  observation  of  a  star  of¬ 
fered  to  the  conclusions  I  had  already  drawn,  struck 


36 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


me  with  the  force  of  positive  confirmation,  and  I 
then  finally  made  up  my  mind  to  the  course  which  I 
afterwards  pursued. 

It  was  late  when  I  reached  home,  and  I  went  im¬ 
mediately  to  bed.  My  mind,  however,  was  too 
much  occupied  to  sleep,  and  I  lay  the  whole  night 
buried  in  meditation.  Arising  early  in  the  morn¬ 
ing,  and  contriving  again  to  escape  the  vigilance  of 
my  creditors,  I  repaired  eagerly  to  the  bookseller’s 
stall,  and  laid  out  what  little  ready  money  I  possessed, 
in  the  purchase  of  some  volumes  of  Mechanics  and 
Practical  Astronomy.  Having  arrived  at  home 
safely  with  these,  I  devoted  every  spare  moment  to 
their  perusal,  and  soon  made  such  proficiency  in 
studies  of  this  nature  as  I  thought  sufficient  for  the 
execution  of  my  plan.  In  the  intervals  of  this  period 
I  made  every  endeavor  to  conciliate  the  three  credi¬ 
tors  who  had  given  me  so  much  annoyance.  In 
this  I  finally  succeeded  —  partly  by  selling  enough 
of  my  household  furniture  to  satisfy  a  moiety  of  their 
claim,  and  partly  by  a  promise  of  paying  the  balance 
upon  completion  of  a  little  project  which  I  told  them 
I  had  in  view,  and  for  assistance  in  which  I  solicited 
their  services.  By  these  means  —  for  they  were 
ignorant  men  —  I  found  little  difficulty  in  gaining 
them  over  to  my  purpose. 

Matters  being  thus  arranged,  I  contrived,  by  the 
aid  of  my  wife,  and  with  the  greatest  secrecy  and 
caution,  to  dispose  of  what  property  I  had  remain¬ 
ing,  and  to  borrow,  in  small  sums,  under  various 
pretences,  and  without  paying  any  attention  to  my 


HANS  1’HAALL. 


37 


future  means  of  repayment,  no  inconsiderable  quantity 
of  ready  money.  With  the  means  thus  accruing  I 
proceeded  to  purchase  at  intervals,  cambric  muslin, 
very  fine,  in  pieces  of  twelve  yards  each  — twine  — 
a  lot  of  the  varnish  of  caoutchouc  —  a  large  and 
deep  basket  of  wicker-work,  made  to  order  —  and 
several  other  articles  necessary  in  the  construction 
and  equipment  of  a  balloon  of  extraordinary  dimen¬ 
sions.  This  I  directed  my  wife  to  make  up  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  gave  her  all  requisite  information  as 
to  the  particular  method  of  proceeding.  In  the 
meantime  I  worked  up  the  twine  into  a  net-work  of 
sufficient  dimensions  ;  rigged  it  with  a  hoop  and  the 
necessary  cords  ;  bought  a  quadrant,  a  compass,  a 
spy-glass,  a  common  barometer  with  some  important 
modifications,  and  two  astronomical  instruments  not 
so  generally  known.  I  then  took  opportunities  of 
conveying  by  night,  to  a  retired  situation  east  of 
Rotterdam,  five  iron-bound  casks,  to  contain  about 
fifty  gallons  each,  and  one  of  a  larger  size — six 
tinned  ware  tubes,  three  inches  in  diameter,  properly 
shaped,  and  ten  feet  in  length  —  a  quantity  of  a  par¬ 
ticular  metallic  substance  or  semi-metal  which  I  shall 
not  name  —  and  a  dozen  demi-johns  of  a  very  com¬ 
mon  acid.  The  gas  to  be  formed  from  these  latter 
materials  is  a  gas  never  yet  generated  by  any  other 
person  than  myself — or  at  least  never  applied  to 
any  similar  purpose.  The  secret  I  would  make  no 
difficulty  in  disclosing,  but  that  it  ol  right  belongs  to 
a  citizen  of  Nantz  in  France,  by  whom  it  was  con¬ 
ditionally  communicated  to  myself.  The  same  in- 
5* 


3&  GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 

dividual  submitted  to  me,  without  being  at  all  aware 
of  my  intentions,  a  method  of  constructing  balloons 
from  the  membrane  of  a  certain  animal,  through 
which  substance  any  escape  of  gas  was  nearly  an 
impossibility.  I  found  it  however  altogether  too 
expensive,  and  was  not  sure,  upon  the  whole,  whether 
cambric  muslin  with  a  coating  of  gum  caoutchouc 
was  not  equally  as  good.  I  mention  this  circum¬ 
stance,  because  I  think  it  probable  that  hereafter  the 
individual  in  question  may  attempt  a  balloon  ascen¬ 
sion  with  the  novel  gas  and  material  I  have  spoken 
of,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  deprive  him  of  the  honor  of 
a  very  singular  invention. 

On  the  spot  which  I  intended  each  of  the  smaller 
casks  to  occupy  respectively  during  the  inflation  of 
the  balloon,  I  privately  dug  a  hole  two  feet  deep- — 
the  holes  forming  in  this  manner  a  circle  of  twenty- 
five  feet  in  diameter.  In  the  centre  of  this  circle, 
being  the  station  designed  for  the  large  cask,  I  also 
dug  a  hole  three  feet  in  depth.  In  each  of  the  five 
smaller  holes,  I  deposited  a  canister  containing  fifty 
pounds,  and  in  the  larger  one  a  keg  holding  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  cannon  powder.  These 
—  the  keg  and  the  canisters  —  I  connected  in  a 
proper  manner  with  covered  trains  ;  and  having  let 
into  one  of  the  canisters  the  end  of  about  four  feet 
of  slow-match,  I  covered  up  the  hole,  and  placed  the 
cask  over  it,  leaving  the  other  end  of  the  match  pro¬ 
truding  about  an  inch,  and  barely  visible  beyond  the 


HANS  PHAALL. 


39 


cask.  I  then  filled  up  the  remaining  holes,  and 
placed  the  barrels  over  them  in  their  destined  situa¬ 
tion. 

Besides  the  articles  above  enumerated,  I  conveyed 
to  the  depot,  and  there  secreted,  one  of  M.  Grimm’s 
improvements  upon  the  apparatus  for  condensation 
of  the  atmospheric  air.  I  found  this  machine,  how¬ 
ever,  to  require  considerable  alteration  before  it  could 
be  adapted  to  the  purposes  to  which  I  intended 
making  it  applicable.  But  with  severe  labor,  and 
unremitting  perseverance,  I  at  length  met  with  entire 
success  in  all  my  preparations.  My  balloon  was 
soon  completed.  It  would  contain  more  than  forty 
thousand  cubic  feet  of  gas  ;  would  take  me  up,  I 
calculated,  easily,  with  all  my  implements,  and,  if  I 
managed  rightly,  with  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
pounds  of  ballast  into  the  bargain.  It  had  received 
three  coats  of  varnish,  and  I  found  the  cambric 
muslin  to  answer  all  the  purposes  of  silk  itself  — - 
quite  as  strong  and  a  good  deal  less  expensive. 

Everything  being  now  ready,  I  exacted  from  my 
wife  an  oath  of  secrecy  in  relation  to  all  my  actions 
from  the  day  of  my  first  visit  to  the  bookseller’s 
stall,  and,  promising,  on  my  part,  to  return  as  soon 
as  circumstances  would  admit,  I  gave  her  all  the 
money  I  had  left,  and  bade  her  farewell.  Indeed  I 
had  little  fear  on  her  account.  She  was  what  people 

0 

call  a  notable  woman,  and  could  manage  matters  in 
the  world  without  my  assistance.  I  believe,  to  tell 
the  truth,  she  always  looked  upon  me  as  an  idle 
body,  a  mere  make-weight,  good  for  nothing  but 


40 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


building  castles  in  the  air,  and  was  rather  glad  to 
get  rid  of  me.  It  was  a  dark  night  when  I  bade  her 
good  bye,  and,  taking  with  me,  as  aids-de-camp,  the 
three  creditors  who  had  given  me  so  much  trouble, 
we  carried  the  balloon,  with  the  car  and  accoutre¬ 
ments,  by  a  roundabout  way,  to  the  station  where 
the  other  articles  were  deposited.  We  there  found 
them  all  unmolested,  and  I  proceeded  immediately 
to  business. 

It  was  the  first  of  April.  The  night,  as  I  said 
before,  was  dark  —  there  was  not  a  star  to  be  seen, 
and  a  drizzling  rain,  falling  at  intervals,  rendered  us 
very  uncomfortable.  But  my  chief  anxiety  was 
concerning  my  balloon,  which  in  spite  of  the  varnish 
with  which  it  was  defended,  began'  to  grow  rather 
heavy  with  the  moisture :  my  powder  also  was  liable 
to  damage.  I  therefore  kept  my  three  duns  work¬ 
ing  with  great  diligence,  pounding  down  ice  around 
the  central  cask,  and  stirring  the  acid  in  the  others. 
They  did  not  cease,  however,  importuning  me  with 
questions  as  to  what  I  intended  to  do  with  all  this 
apparatus,  and  expressed  much  dissatisfaction  at  the 
terrible  labor  I  made  them  undergo.  They  could 
not  perceive,  so  they  said,  what  good  was  likely  to 
result  from  their  getting  wet  to  the  skin  merely  to 
take  a  part  in  such  horrible  incantations.  I  began 
to  get  uneasy,  and  worked  away  with  all  my  might 
—  for  I  verily  believe  the  idiots  supposed  that  I  had 
entered  into  a  compact  with  the  devil,  and  that,  in 
short,  what  I  was  now  doing  was  nothing  better 
than  it  should  be.  I  was,  therefore,  in  great  fear  of 


HANS  PHAALL. 


41 


their  leaving  me  altogether.  I  contrived,  however, 
to  pacify  them  by  promises  of  immediate  payment 
as  soon  as  I  could  bring  the  present  business  to  a 
termination.  To  these  speeches  they  gave  of  course 
their  own  interpretation —fancying,  no  doubt,  that 
at  all  events  I  should  come  into  possession  of  vast 
quantities  of  ready  money ;  and  provided  I  paid  them 
all  I  owed,  and  a  trifle  more,  in  consideration  of 
their  services,  I  dare  say  they  cared  very  little  what 
became  of  either  my  soul  or  my  carcass. 

In  about  four  hours  and  a  half  I  found  the  balloon 
sufficiently  inflated.  I  attached  the  car,  therefore, 
and  put  all  my  implements  in  it  —  not  forgetting  the 
condensing  apparatus,  a  copious  supply  of  water, 
and  a  large  quantity  of  provisions,  such  as  pem- 
mican,  in  which  much  nutriment  is  contained  in 
comparatively  little  bulk.  I  also  secured  in  the  car 
a  pair  of  pigeons  and  a  cat.  It  was  now  nearly 
daybreak,  and  I  thought  it  high  time  to  take  my 
departure.  Dropping  a  lighted  cigar  on  the  ground^ 
as  if  by  accident,  I  took  the  opportunity,  in  stooping 
to  pick  it  up,  of  igniting  privately  the  piece  of  slow 
match,  whose  end,  as  I  said  before,  protruded  a  very 
little  beyond  the  lower  rim  of  one  of  the  smaller 
casks.  This  manoeuvre  was  totally  unperceived  on 
the  part  of  the  three  duns,  and,  jumping  into  the  car, 

I  immediately  cut  the  single  cord  which  held  me  to 
the  earth,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  I  shot  up¬ 
wards,  rapidly  carrying  with  all  ease  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  pounds  of  leaden  ballast,  and  able 
to  have  carried  up  as  many  more. 


42 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Scarcely,  however,  had  I  attained  the  height  of 
fifty  yards,  when,  roaring  and  rumbling  up  after  me 
in  the  most  horrible  and  tumultuous  manner,  came 
so  dense  a  hurricane  of  fire,  and  smoke,  and  sulphur, 
and  legs,  and  arms,  and  gravel,  and  burning  wood, 
and  blazing  metal,  that  my  very  heart  sunk  within 
me,  and  I  fell  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  car,  trem¬ 
bling  with  unmitigated  terror.  Indeed  I  now  per¬ 
ceived  that  I  had  entirely  overdone  the  business,  and 
that  the  main  consequences  of  the  shock  were  yet  to 
be  experienced.  Accordingly,  in  less  than  a  second, 
I  felt  all  the  blood  in  my  body  rushing  to  my  temples, 
and,  immediately  thereupon,  a  concussion,  which  I 
shall  never  forget,  burst  abruptly  through  the  night, 
and  seemed  to  rip  the  very  firmament  asunder. 
When  I  afterwards  had  time  for  reflection,  I  did  not 
fail  to  attribute  the  extreme  violence  of  the  explosion, 
as  regarded  myself,  to  its  proper  cause  —  my  situa¬ 
tion  directly  above  it,  and  in  the  exact  line  of  its 
greatest  power.  But  at  the  time  I  thought  only  of 
preserving  my  life.  The  balloon  at  first  collapsed 
—  then  furiously  expanded — then  whirled  round  and 
round  with  horrible  velocity  —  and  finally,  reeling 
and  staggering  like  a  drunken  man,  hurled  me  with 
great  force  over  the  rim  of  the  car,  and  left  me 
dangling,  at  a  terrific  height,  with  my  head  down¬ 
wards,  and  my  face  outwards  from  the  balloon,  by 
a  piece  of  slender  cord  about  three  feet  in  length, 
which  hung  accidentally  through  a  crevice  near  the 
bottom  of  the  wicker-work,  and  in  which,  as  I  fell, 
my  left  foot  became  most  providentially  entangled. 


HANS  PHAALL. 


43 


It  is  impossible  —  utterly  impossible  —  to  form  any 
adequate  idea  of  the  horror  of  my  situation.  I 
gasped  convulsively  for  breath  —  a  shudder  re¬ 
sembling  a  fit  of  the  ague  agitated  every  nerve  and 
muscle  in  my  frame  —  I  felt  my  eyes  starting  from 
their  sockets  —  a  horrible  nausea  overwhelmed  me 

—  and  at  length  I  fainted  away. 

How  long  I  remained  in  this  state,  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  It  must,  however,  have  been  no  incon¬ 
siderable  time,  for  when  I  partially  recovered  the 
sense  of  existence,  I  found  the  day  breaking,  and 
the  balloon  at  a  prodigious  height  over  a  wilderness 
of  ocean,  and  not  a  trace  of  land  to  be  discovered 
far  and  wide  within  the  limits  of  the  vast  horizon. 
My  sensations,  however,  upon  thus  recovering,  were 
by  no  means  so  rife  with  agony  as  might  have  been 
anticipated.  Indeed  there  was  much  of  incipient 
madness  in  the  calm  survey  which  I  began  to  take 
of  my  situation.  I  drew  up  to  my  eyes  each  of  my 
hands,  one  after  the  other,  and  wondered  what  oc¬ 
currence  could  have  given  rise  to  the  swelling  of  the 
veins,  and  the  horrible  blackness  of  the  finger  nails. 
I  afterwards  carefully  examined  my  head,  shaking 
it  repeatedly,  and  feeling  it  with  minute  attention, 
until  I  succeeded  in  satisfying  myself  that  it  was  not 

—  as  I  had  more  than  half  suspected —  larger  than 
my  balloon.  Then,  in  a  knowing  manner,  I  felt  in 
both  my  breeches  pockets,  and  missing  therefrom  a 
set  of  tablets  and  a  tooth-pick  case,  I  endeavored  to 
account  for  their  disappearance,  and,  not  being  able 
to  do  so,  felt  inexpressibly  chagrined.  It  now  oc- 


44 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


curred  to  me  that  I  suffered  great  uneasiness  in  the 
joint  of  my  left  ankle,  and  a  dim  consciousness  of 
my  situation  began  to  glimmer  through  my  mind. 
But,  strange  to  say !  I  was  neither  astonished  nor 
horror-stricken.  If  I  felt  any  emotion  at  all,  it  was 
a  kind  of  chuckling  satisfaction  at  the  cleverness  I 
was  about  to  display  in  extricating  myself  from  this 
dilemma  ;  and  I  never,  for  a  moment,  looked  upon 
my  ultimate  safety  as  a  question  susceptible  of  doubt. 
For  a  few  minutes  I  remained  wrapped  in  the  pro- 
foundest  meditation.  I  have  a  distinct  recollection 
of  frequently  compressing  my  lips,  putting  my  fore¬ 
finger  to  the  side  of  my  nose,  and  making  use  of 
other  gesticulations  and  grimaces  common  to  men 
who,  at  ease  in  their  arm-chairs,  meditate  upon 
matters  of  intricacy  or  importance.  Having,  as  I 
thought,  sufficiently  collected  my  ideas,  I  now,  with 
great  caution  and  deliberation,  put  my  hands  behind 
my  back,  and  unfastened  the  large  iron  buckle  which 
belonged  to  the  waistband  of  my  inexpressibles. 
This  buckle  had  three  teeth,  which,  being  somewhat 
rusty,  turned  with  great  difficulty  upon  their  axis. 

I  brought  them  however,  after  some  trouble,  at  right 
angles  to  the  body  of  the  buckle,  and  was  glad  to 
find  them  remain  firm  in  that  position.  Holding  the 
instrument  thus  obtained  within  my  teeth,  I  now 
proceeded  to  untie  the  knot  of  my  cravat.  I  had  to 
rest  several  times  before  I  could  accomplish  this 
manoeuvre  —  but  it  was  at  length  accomplished. 
To  one  end  of  the  cravat  I  then  made  fast  the 
buckle,  and  the  other  end  I  tied,  for  greater  security, 


HANS  PHAALL. 


45 


tightly  around  my  wrist.  Drawing  now  my  body 
upwards,  with  a  prodigious  exertion  of  muscular 
force,  I  succeeded,  at  the  very  first  trial,  in  throwing 
the  buckle  over  the  car,  and  entangling  it,  as  I  had 
anticipated,  in  the  circular  rim  of  the  wicker-work. 

My  body  was  now  inclined  towards  the  side  of 
the  car,  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees  — 
but  it  must  not  be  understood  that  I  was  therefore 
only  forty-five  degrees  below  the  perpendicular. 
So  far  from  it,  I  still  lay  nearly  level  with  the  plane 
of  the  horizon  —  for  the  change  of  situation  which  I 
had  acquired,  had  forced  the  bottom  of  the  car  con¬ 
siderably  outwrards  from  my  position,  which  was 
accordingly  one  of  the  most  imminent  and  deadly 
peril.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  that  when 
I  fell,  in  the  first  instance,  from  the  car,  if  I  had 
fallen  with  my  face  turned  towards  the  balloon, 
instead  of  turned  outwardly  from  it  as  it  actually 
was —  or  if,  in  the  second  place,  the  cord  by  which 
I  was  suspended  had  chanced  to  hang  over  the 
upper  edge,  instead  of  through  a  crevice  near  the 
bottom  of  the  car,  —  I  say  it  may  readily  be  con¬ 
ceived  that,  in  either  of  these  supposed  cases,  I 
should  have  been  unable  to  accomplish  even  as  much 
as  I  had  now  accomplished,  and  the  wonderful  ad¬ 
ventures  of  Hans  Phaal  would  have  been  utterly 
lost  to  posterity.  I  had  therefore  every  reason  to 
be  grateful  —  although,  in  point  of  fact,  I  was  still 
too  stupid  to  be  anything  at  all,  and  hung  for,  I  sup¬ 
pose,  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in  that  extraordinary 
manner,  without  making  the  slightest  farther  exer- 

VOL.  II. — 6 


46 


GROTESQUE  AJJD  ARABESQUE. 


tion  whatsoever,  and  in  a  singularly  tranquil  state 
of  idiotic  enjoyment.  But  this  feeling  did  not  fail  to 
die  rapidly  away,  and  thereunto  succeeded  horror, 
and  dismay,  and  a  chilling  sense  of  utter  helpless¬ 
ness  and  ruin.  In  fact,  the  blood  so  long  accumu¬ 
lating  in  the  vessels  of  my  head  and  throat,  and 
which  had  hitherto  buoyed  up  my  spirits  with  mad¬ 
ness  and  delirium,  had  now  begun  to  retire  within 
their  proper  channels,  and  the  distinctness  which 
was  thus  added  to  my  perception  of  the  danger, 
merely  served  to  deprive  me  of  the  self-possession 
and  courage  to  encounter  it.  But  this  weakness 
was,  luckily  for  me,  of  no  very  long  duration.  In 
good  time  came  to  my  rescue  the  spirit  of  despair, 
and  with  frantic  cries  and  convulsive  struggles,  I 
jerked  my  way  bodily  upwards,  till,  at  length,  clutch¬ 
ing  with  a  vice-like  grip  the  long-desired  rim,  I 
writhed  my  person  over  it,  and  fell  headlong  and 
shuddering  within  the  car. 

It  was  not  until  some  time  afterwards  that  I  re¬ 
covered  myself  sufficiently  to  attend  to  the  ordinary 
cares  of  the  balloon.  I  then,  however,  examined  it 
with  attention,  and  found  it,  to  my  great  relief,  un¬ 
injured.  My  implements  were  all  safe,  and  I  had, 
fortunately,  lost  neither  ballast  nor  provisions.  In¬ 
deed,  I  had  so  well  secured  them  in  their  places,  that 
such  an  accident  was  entirely  out  of  the  question. 
Looking  at  my  watch,  I  found  it  six  o’clock.  I  was 
still  rapidly  ascending,  and  my  barometer  showed  a 
present  altitude  of  three  and  three-quarter  miles. 
Immediately  beneath  me  in  the  ocean,  lay  a  small 


HANS  PHAALL. 


47 


black  object,  slightly  oblong  in  shape,  seemingly 
about  the  size,  and  in  every  way  bearing  a  great 
resemblance  to  one  of  those  childish  toys  called  a 
domino.  Bringing  my  spy-glass  to  bear  upon  it,  I 
plainly  discerned  it  to  be  a  British  ninety-four  gun 
ship,  close-hauled,  and  pitching  heavily  in  the  sea 
with  her  head  to  the  W.S.W.  Besides  this  ship,  I 
saw  nothing  but  the  ocean  and  the  sky,  and  the 
sun,  which  had  long  arisen. 

It  is  now  high  time  that  I  should  explain  to  your 
Excellencies  the  object  of  my  perilous  voyage. 
Your  Excellencies  will  bear  in  mind,  that  distressed 
circumstances  in  Rotterdam  had  at  length  driven 
me  to  the  resolution  of  committing  suicide.  It  was 
not,  however,  that  to  life  itself  I  had  any  positive 
disgust  —  but  that  I  was  harassed  beyond  endurance 
by  the  adventitious  miseries  attending  my  situation. 
In  this  state  of  mind  —  wishing  to  live,  yet  wearied 
with  life  —  the  treatise  at  the  stall  of  the  bookseller 
opened  a  resource  to  my  imagination.  I  then 
finally  made  up  my  mind.  I  determined  to  depart, 
yet  live  —  to  leave  the  world,  yet  continue  to  exist 
—  in  short,  to  drop  enigmas,  I  resolved,  let  what 
would  ensue,  to  force  a  passage  —  if  I  could  —  to  the 
moon.  Now,  lest  I  should  be  supposed  more  of  a 
madman  than  I  actually  am,  I  will  detail,  as  well  as 
I  am  able,  the  considerations  which  led  me  to  believe 
that  an  achievement  of  this  nature,  although  without 
doubt  difficult,  and  incontestably  full  of  danger,  was 
not  absolutely,  to  a  bold  spirit,  beyond  the  confines 
of  the  possible. 


48 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


The  moon’s  actual  distance  from  the  earth  was 
the  first  thing  to  be  attended  to.  Now,  the  mean  or 
average  interval  between  the  centres  of  the  two 
planets  is  59.9643  of  the  earth’s  equatorial  radii,  or 
only  about  237000  miles.  I  say  the  mean  or  average 
interval.  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the 
form  of  the  moon’s  orbit  being  an  elipse  of  eccen¬ 
tricity  amounting  to  no  less  than  0.05484  of  the 
major  semi-axis  of  the  elipse  itself,  and  the  earth’s 
centre  being  situated  in  its  focus,  if  I  could,  in  any 
manner,  contrive  to  meet  the  moon,  as  it  were,  in 
its  perigee,  the  above-mentioned  distance  would  be 
materially  diminished.  But  to  say  nothing,  at 
present,  of  this  possibility,  it  was  very  certain,  that 
at  all  events,  from  the  237000  miles  I  should  have  to 
deduct  the  radius  of  the  earth,  say  4000,  and  the 
radius  of  the  moon,  say  1080,  in  all  5080,  leaving  an 
actual  interval  to  be  traversed,  under  average  cir¬ 
cumstances,  of  231920  miles.  Now  this,  I  reflected, 
was  no  very  extraordinary  distance.  Travelling  on 
land  has  been  repeatedly  accomplished  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  per  hour,  and  indeed  a  much  greater 
speed  may  be  anticipated.  But  even  at  this  velocity, 
it  would  take  me  no  more  than  322  days  to  reach 
the  surface  of  the  moon.  There  were,  however, 
many  particulars  inducing  me  to  believe  that  my 
average  rate  of  travelling  might  possibly  very  much 
exceed  that  of  thirty  miles  per  hour,  and,  as  these 
considerations  did  not  fail  to  make  a  deep  impres¬ 
sion  upon  my  mind,  I  will  mention  them  more  fully 
hereafter. 


HAN'S  PHAALL. 


49 


The  next  point  to  be  regarded  was  a  matter  of 
far  greater  importance.  From  indications  afforded 
by  the  barometer,  we  find  that,  in  ascensions  from 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  we  have,  at  the  height  of 
1000  feet,  left  below  us  about  one-thirtieth  of  the 
entire  mass  of  atmospheric  air  —  that  at  10600,  we 
have  ascended  through  nearly  one-third  —  and  that 
at  18000,  which  is  not  far  from  the  elevation  of 
Cotopaxi,  we  have  surmounted  one-half  of  the 
material,  or,  at  all  events,  one-half  the  ponderable 
body  of  air  incumbent  upon  our  globe.  It  is  also 
calculated,  that  at  an  altitude  not  exceeding  the 
hundredth  part  of  the  earth’s  diameter  —  that  is,  not 
exceeding  eighty  miles  —  the  rarefaction  would  be 
so  excessive,  that  animal  life  could,  in  no  manner, 
be  sustained,  and  moreover,  that  the  most  delicate 
means  we  possess  of  ascertaining  the  presence  of  the 
atmosphere,  would  be  inadequate  to  assure  us  of  its 
existence.  But  I  did  not  fail  to  perceive  that  these 
latter  calculations  are  founded  altogether  on  our 
experimental  knowledge  of  the  properties  of  air,  and 
the  mechanical  laws  regulating  its  dilation  and  com¬ 
pression  in  what  may  be  called,  comparatively  speak¬ 
ing,  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  earth  itself:  and, 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  taken  for  granted,  that  animal 
life  is,  and  must  be,  essent'mWy  incapable  of  modifica¬ 
tion  at  any  given  unattainable  distance  from  the 
surface.  Now,  all  such  reasoning,  and  from  such 
data,  must  of  course  be  simply  analogical.  The 
greatest  height  ever  reached  by  man,  was  that  of 
25000  feet,  attained  in  the  aeronautic  expedition  of 
6* 


50 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Messieurs  Gay-Lussac  and  Biot.  This  is  a  moderate 
altitude,  even  when  compared  with  the  eighty  miles 
in  question  ;  and  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  the 
subject  admitted  room  for  doubt,  and  great  latitude 
for  speculation. 

But,  in  point  of  fact,  an  ascension  being  made  to 
any  stated  altitude,  the  ponderable  quantity  of  air 
surmounted  in  an y  farther  ascension,  is  by  no  means 
in  proportion  to  the  additional  height  ascended,  (as 
may  be  plainly  seen  from  what  has  been  stated 
before.)  but  in  a  ratio  constantly  decreasing.  It  is. 
therefore  evident  that,  ascend  as  high  as  we  may, 
we  cannot,  literally  speaking,  arrive  at  a  limit 
beyond  which  no  atmosphere  is  to  be  found.  It 
must  exist,  I  argued  —  it  may  exist  in  a  state  of  infinite 
rarefaction. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  was  aware  that  arguments 
have  not  been  wanting  to  prove  the  existence  of  a 
real  and  definite  limit  to  the  atmosphere,  beyond 
which  there  is  absolutely  no  air  whatsoever.  But  a 
circumstance  which  has  been  left  out  of  view  by 
those  who  contend  for  such  a  limit,  seemed  to  me,, 
although  no  positive  refutation  of  their  creed,  still  a 
point  worthy  very  serious  investigation.  On  comparing 
the  intervals  between  the  successive  arrivals  of 
Encke’s  comet  at  its  perihelion,  after  giving  credit, 
in  the  most  exact  manner,  for  all  the  disturbances  or 
perturbations  due  to  the  attractions  of  the  planets,  it 
appears  that  the  periods  are  gradually  diminishing  — 
that  is  to  say  —  the  major  axis  of  the  comet’s  elipse 
is  growing  shorter,  in  a  slow  but  perfectly  regula  r 


HANS  PHAALL. 


51 


decrease.  Now,  this  is  precisely  what  ought  to  be 
the  case,  if  we  suppose  a  resistance  experienced  by 
the  comet  from  an  extremely  rare  ethereal  medium 
pervading  the  regions  of  its  orbit.  For  it  is  evident 
that  such  a  medium  must,  in  retarding  its  velocity, 
increase  its  centripetal,  by  weakening  its  centrifugal 
force.  In  other  words,  the  sun’s  attraction  would 
be  constantly  attaining  greater  power,  and  the  comet 
would  be  drawn  nearer  at  every  revolution.  Indeed, 
there  is  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  the  variation 
in  question.  But  again.  The  real  diameter  of  the  same 
comet’s  nebulosity,  is  observed  to  contract  rapidly 
as  it  approaches  the  sun,  and  dilate  with  equal 
rapidity  in  its  departure  towards  its  aphelion.  Was 
I  not  justifiable  in  supposing,  with  M.  Valz,  that  this 
apparent  condensation  of  volume  has  its  origin  in 
the  compression  of  the  same  ethereal  medium  I  have 
spoken  of  before,  and  which  is  only  denser  in  pro¬ 
portion  to  its  solar  vicinity  ?  The  lenticular-shaped 
phenomenon,  also,  called  the  zodiacal  light,  was  a 
matter  worthy  of  attention.  This  radiance,  so  appa¬ 
rent  in  the  tropics,  and  which  cannot  be  mistaken 
for  any  meteoric  lustre,  extends  from  the  horizon 
obliquely  upwards,  and  follows  generally  the  direction 
of  the  sun’s  equator.  It  appeared  to  me  evidently  in 
the  nature  of  a  rare  atmosphere  extending  from  the 
sun  outwards,  beyond  the  orbit  of  Venus  at  least, 
and  I  believed  indefinitely  farther.*  Indeed,  this 

#  The  zodiacal  light  is  probably  what  the  ancients  called 
Trabes.  Emicant  Trabes  quos  docos  vocant.  —  Pliny  lib.  2» 

p.  26* 


52 


GROTESQUE  A1VD  ARABESQUE. 


medium  I  could  not  suppose  confined  to  the  path  of 
the  comet’s  elipse,  or  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  the  sun.  It  was  easy,  on  the  contrary,  to  imagine 
it  pervading  the  entire  regions  of  our  planetary  sys¬ 
tem,  condensed  into  what  we  call  atmosphere  at  the 
planets  themselves,  and  in  some  of  them  modified  by 
considerations,  so  to  speak,  purely  geological. 

Having  adopted  this  view  of  the  subject,  I  had 
little  further  hesitation.  Granting  that  on  my  passage 
I  should  meet  with  atmosphere  essentially  the  same 
as  at  the  surface  of  the  earth,  I  conceived  that,  by 
means  of  the  very  ingenious  apparatus  of  M.  Grimm, 
I  should  readily  be  enabled  to  condense  it  in  sufficient 
quantities  for  the  purpose  of  respiration.  This  would 
remove  the  chief  obstacle  in  a  journey  to  the  moon. 
I  had  indeed  spent  some  money  and  great  labor  in 
adapting  the  apparatus  to  the  purposes  intended,  and 
I  confidently  looked  forward  to  its  successful  appli¬ 
cation,  if  I  could  manage  to  complete  the  voyage 
within  any  reasonable  period.  This  brings  me  back 
to  the  rate  at  which  it  might  be  possible  to  travel. 

It  is  true  that  balloons,  in  the  first  stage  of  their 
ascensions  from  the  earth,  are  known  to  rise  with  a 
velocity  comparatively  moderate.  Now,  the  power 
of  elevation  lies  altogether  in  the  superior  lightness 
of  the  gas  in  the  balloon,  compared  with  the  atmo¬ 
spheric  air;  and,  at  first  sight,  it  does  not  appear 
probable  that,  as  the  balloon  acquires  altitude,  and 
consequently  arrives  successively  in  atmospheric 
strata  of  densities  rapidly  diminishing  —  I  say,  it  does 
not  appear  at  all  reasonable  that,  in  this  its  progress 


HANS  PHAALL. 


53 


upwards,  the  original  velocity  should  be  accelerated. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  was  not  aware  that,  in  any 
recorded  ascension,  a  diminution  was  apparent  in  the 
absolute  rate  of  ascent  —  although  such  should  have 
been  the  case,  if  on  account  of  nothing  else,  on 
account  of  the  escape  of  gas  through  balloons  ill- 
constructed,  and  varnished  with  no  better  material 
than  the  ordinary  varnish.  It  seemed,  therefore, 
that  the  effect  of  such  an  escape  was  only  sufficient 
to  counterbalance  the  effect  of  some  accelerating 
power.  I  now  considered,  that  provided  in  my 
passage  I  found  the  medium  I  had  imagined,  and 
provided  it  should  prove  to  be  actually  and  essentially 
what  we  denominate  atmospheric  air,  it  could  make 
comparatively  little  difference  at  what  extreme  state 
of  rarefaction  I  should  discover  it  —  that  is  to  say, 
in  regard  to  my  power  of  ascending  —  for  the  gas  in 
the  balloon  would  not  only  be  itself  subject  to  a  rarefac¬ 
tion  partially  similar,  (in  proportion  to  the  occurrence 
of  which,  I  could  suffer  an  escape  of  so  much  as 
would  be  requisite  to  prevent  explosion,)  but,  being 
what  it  was,  would  still,  at  all  events,  continue 
specifically  lighter  than  any  compound  whatever  of 
mere  nitrogen  and  oxygen.  In  the  meantime  the 
force  of  gravitation  would  be  constantly  diminishing, 
in  proportion  to  the  squares  of  the  distances,  and 
thus,  with  a  velocity  prodigiously  accelerating,  I 
should  at  length  arrive  in  those  distant  regions  where 
the  power  of  the  earth’s  attraction  would  be  super¬ 
seded  by  the  moon’s.  In  accordance  with  these 
ideas,  I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  encumber 


54 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


myself  with  more  provisions  than  would  be  sufficient 
for  a  period  of  forty  days. 

There  was  still,  however,  another  difficulty  which 
occasioned  me  some  little  disquietude.  It  has  been 
observed,  that  in  balloon  ascensions  to  any  considera¬ 
ble  height,  besides  the  pain  attending  respiration, 
great  uneasiness  is  experienced  about  the  head  and 
body,  often  accompanied  with  bleeding  at  the  nose, 
and  other  symptoms  of  an  alarming  kind,  and  growing 
more  and  more  inconvenient  in  proportion  to  the 
altitude  attained.*  This  was  a  reflection  of  a  nature 
somewhat  startling.  Was  it  not  probable  that  these 
symptoms  would  increase  indefinitely,  or  at  least  until 
terminated  by  death  itself]  1  finally  thought  not. 
Their  origin  was  to  be  looked  for  in  the  progressive 
removal  of  the  customary  atmospheric  pressure  upon 
the  surface  of  the  body,  and  consequent  distention  of 
the  superficial  blood-vessels  —  not  in  any  positive 
disorganization  of  the  animal  system,  as  in  the  case 
of  difficulty  in  breathing,  where  the  atmospheric 
density  is  chemically  insufficient  fox  the  purpose  of  a 
due  renovation  of  blood  in  a  ventricle  of  the  heart. 
Unless  for  default  of  this  renovation,  I  could  see  no 
reason,  therefore,  why  life  could  not  be  sustained 
even  in  a  vacuum  —  for  the  expansion  and  com¬ 
pression  of  chest,  commonly  called  breathing,  is 

*  Since  the  original  publication  of  Hans  Phaall  I  find  that 
Mr.  Green,  of  Nassau-balloon  notoriety,  and  other  late  aero¬ 
nauts,  deny  the  assertions  of  Humboldt,  in  this  respect,  and 
speak  of  a  decreasing  inconvenience  —  precisely  in  accordance 
with  the  theory  here  urged  in  a  mere  spirit  of  banter, 


HANS  PHAALL. 


55 


action  purely  muscular,  and  the  cause,  not  the  effect , 
of  respiration.  In  a  word,  I  conceived  that,  as  the 
body  should  become  habituated  to  the  want  of 
atmospheric  pressure,  these  sensations  of  pain  would 
gradually  diminish,  and  to  endure  them  while  they 
continued,  I  relied  strongly  upon  the  iron  hardihood 
of  my  constitution. 

Thus,  may  it  please  your  Excellencies,  I  have 
detailed  some,  though  by  no  means  all  the  considera¬ 
tions  which  led  me  to  form  the  project  of  a  lunar 
voyage.  I  shall  now  proceed  to  lay  before  you  the 
result  of  an  attempt  so  apparently  audacious  in  con¬ 
ception,  and,  at  all  events,  so  utterly  unparalleled  in 
the  annals  of  human  kind, 

Having  attained  the  altitude  before  mentioned,  that 
is  to  say,  three  miles  and  three-quarters,  I  threw  out 
from  the  car  a  quantity  of  feathers,  and  found  that  I 
still  ascended  with  sufficient  rapidity  —  there  was, 
therefore,  no  necessity  for  discharging  any  ballast. 
I  was  glad  of  this,  for  I  wished  to  retain  with  me  as 
much  weight  as  I  could  carry,  for  reasons  which 
will  be  explained  in  the  sequel.  I  as  yet  suffered  no 
bodily  inconvenience,  breathing  with  great  freedom, 
and  feeling  no  pain  whatever  in  the  head.  The  cat 
was  lying  very  demurely  upon  my  coat,  which  I  had 
taken  off,  and  eyeing  the  pigeons  with  an  air  of 
nonchalance.  These  latter  being  tied  by  the  leg,  to 
prevent  their  escape,  were  busily  employed  in  picking 
up  some  grains  of  rice  scattered  for  them  in  the  bot¬ 
tom  of  the  car. 

At  twenty  minutes  past  six  o’clock,  the  barometer 
showed  an  elevation  of  26,400  feet,  or  five  miles  to  a 


56 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


fraction.  The  prospect  seemed  unbounded.  Indeed, 
it  is  very  easily  calculated  by  means  of  spherical 
geometry,  what  a  great  extent  of  the  earth’s  area  I 
beheld.  The  convex  surface  of  any  segment  of  a 
sphere  is,  to  the  entire  surface  of  the  sphere  itself,  as 
the  versed  sine  of  the  segment  is  to  the  diameter  of 
the  sphere.  Now,  in  my  case,  the  versed  sine — that 
is  to  say,  the  thickness  of  the  segment  beneath  me, 
was  about  equal  to  my  elevation,  or  the  elevation  of 
the  point  of  sight  above  the  surface.  “As  five  miles, 
then,  to  eight  thousand,”  would  express  the  proportion 
of  the  earth’s  area  seen  by  me.  In  other  words,  I 
beheld  as  much  as  a  sixteen-hundredth  part  of  the 
whole  surface  of  the  globe.  The  sea  appeared 
unruffled  as  a  mirror,  although,  by  means  of  the  spy¬ 
glass,  I  could  perceive  it  to  be  in  a  state  of  violent 
agitation.  The  ship  was  no  longer  visible,  having 
drifted  away,  apparently,  to  the  eastward.  I  now 
began  to  experience,  at  intervals,  severe  pain  in  the 
head,  especially  about  the  ears  —  still,  however, 
breathing  with  tolerable  freedom.  The  cat  and 
pigeons  seemed  to  suffer  no  inconvenience  what¬ 
soever. 

At  twenty  minutes  before  seven, the  balloon  entered 
within  a  long  series  of  dense  cloud,  which  put  me  to 
great  trouble,  by  damaging  my  condensing  apparatus, 
and  wetting  me  to  the  skin.  This  was,  to  be  sure,  a 
singular  rencontre,  for  I  had  not  believed  it  possible 
that  a  cloud  of  this  nature  could  be  sustained  at  so 
great  an  elevation.  I  thought  it  best,  however,  to 
throw7  out  two  five-pound  pieces  of  ballast,  reserving 
still  a  weight  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  pounds. 


HANS  PHAALL. 


57 


Upon  so  doing,  I  soon  rose  above  the  difficulty,  and 
perceived  immediately,  that  I  had  obtained  a  great 
increase  in  my  rate  of  ascent.  In  a  few  seconds 
after  my  leaving  the  cloud,  a  flash  of  vivid  lightning 
shot  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other,  and  caused  it  to 
kindle  up,  throughout  its  vast  extent,  like  a  mass  of 
ignited  and  glowing  charcoal.  This,  it  must  be 
remembered,  was  in  the  broad  light  of  day.  No 
fancy  may  picture  the  sublimity  which  might  have 
been  exhibited  by  a  similar  phenomenon  taking  place 
amid  the  darkness  of  the  night.  Hell  itself  might 
then  have  found  a  fitting  image.  Even  as  it  was, 
my  hair  stood  on  end,  while  I  gazed  afar  down  within 
the  yawning  abysses,  letting  imagination  descend,  as 
it  were,  and  stalk  about  in  the  strange  vaulted  hails, 
and  ruddy  gulfs,  and  red  ghastly  chasms  of  the  hideous 
and  unfathomable  fire.  I  had  indeed  made  a  narrow 
escape.  Had  the  balloon  remained  a  very  short  while 
longer  within  the  cloud  —  that  is  to  say  —  had  not 
the  inconvenience  of  getting  wet  determined  me  to 
discharge  the  ballast,  inevitable  ruin  would  have 
been  the  consequence.  Such  perils,  although  little 
considered,  are  perhaps  the  greatest  which  must  be 
encountered  in  balloons.  I  had  by  this  time,  how¬ 
ever,  attained  too  great  an  elevation  to  be  any  longer 
uneasy  on  this  head. 

I  was  now  rising  rapidly,  and  by  seven  o’clock 
the  barometer  indicated  an  altitude  of  no  less  than 
nine  miles  and  a  half.  I  began  to  find  great  difficulty 
in  drawing  my  breath.  My  head  too  was  excessively 
painful ;  and,  having  felt  for  some  time  a  moisture 

VOL.  ii. — 7 


58 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


about  my  cheeks,  I  at  length  discovered  it  to  be 
blood,  which  was  oozing  quite  fast  from  the  drums 
of  my  ears.  My  eyes,  also,  gave  me  great  uneasiness. 
Upon  passing  the  hand  over  them  they  seemed  to 
have  protruded  from  their  sockets  in  no  inconsidera¬ 
ble  degree,  and  ail  objects  in  the  car,  and  even  the 
balloon  itself,  appeared  distorted  to  my  vision.  These 
symptoms  were  more  than  1  had  expected,  and  oc¬ 
casioned  me  some  alarm.  At  this  juncture,  very 
imprudently,  and  without  consideration,  I  threw  out 
from  the  car  three  five-pound  pieces  of  ballast.  The 
accelerated  rate  of  ascent  thus  obtained  carried  me 
too  rapidly,  and  without  sufficient  gradation,  into  a 
highly  rarefied  stratum  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
result  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  my  expedition  and 
to  myself.  I  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  spasm 
which  lasted  for  better  than  five  minutes,  and  even 
when  this,  in  a  measure,  ceased,  I  could  catch  my 
breath  only  at  long  intervals,  and  in  a  gasping  man¬ 
ner —  bleeding  all  the  while  copiously  at  the  nose 
and  ears,  and  even  slightly  at  the  eyes.  The  pigeons 
appeared  distressed  in  the  extreme,  and  struggled  to 
escape  ;  while  the  cat  mewed  piteously,  and,  with  her 
tongue  hanging  out  of  her  mouth,  staggered  to  and 
fro  in  the  car  as  if  under  the  influence  of  poison.  I 
now  too  late  discovered  the  great  rashness  I  had 
been  guilty  of  in  discharging  the  ballast,  and  my 
agitation  was  excessive.  I  anticipated  nothing  less 
than  death,  and  death  in  a  few  minutes.  The  physi¬ 
cal  suffering  I  underwent  contributed  also  to  render 
me  nearly  incapable  of  making  any  exertion  for  the 


HANS  PHAALL. 


59 


preservation  of  my  life.  I  had  indeed,  little  power  of 
reflection  left,  and  the  violence  of  the  pain  in  my 
head  seemed  to  be  greatly  on  the  increase.  Thus  I 
found  that  my  senses  would  shortly  give  way  alto¬ 
gether,  and  I  had  already  clutched  one  of  the  valve 
ropes  with  the  view  of  attempting  a  descent,  when 
the  recollection  of  the  trick  I  had  played  the  three 
creditors,  and  the  inevitable  consequences  to  myself, 
should  I  return  to  Rotterdam,  operated  to  deter  me 
for  the  moment.  I  lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the 
car,  and  endeavored  to  collect  my  faculties.  In  this 
I  so  far  succeeded  as  to  determine  upon  the  experb 
ment  of  losing  blood.  Having  no  lancet,  however,  I 
was  constrained  to  perform  the  operation  in  the  best 
manner  I  was  able,  and  finally  succeeded  in  opening 
a  vein  in  my  right  arm,  with  the  blade  of  my  pen¬ 
knife.  The  blood  had  hardly  commenced  flowing 
when  I  experienced  a  sensible  relief,  and  by  the  time 
I  had  lost  about  half  a  moderate  basin  full,  most  of 
the  worst  symptoms  had  abandoned  me  entirely.  I 
nevertheless  did  not  think  it  expedient  to  attempt 
getting  on  my  feet  immediately  ;  but,  having  tied  up 
my  arm  as  well  as  I  could,  I  lay  still  for  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  this  time  I  arose, 
and  found  myself  freer  from  absolute  pain  of  any 
kind  than  I  had  been  during  the  last  hour  and  a 
quarter  of  my  ascension.  The  difficulty  of  breath¬ 
ing,  however,  was  diminished  in  a  very  slight 
degree,  and  I  found  that  it  would  soon  be  positively 
necessary  to  make  use  of  my  condenser.  In  the 
meantime  looking  towards  the  cat,  who  was  again 


60  GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 

snugly  stowed  away  upon  my  coat,  I  discovered,  to 
my  infinite  surprise,  that  she  had  taken  the  opportunity 
of  my  indisposition  to  bring  into  light  a  litter  of  three 
little  kittens.  This  was  an  addition  to  the  number  of 
passengers  on  my  part  altogether  unexpected ;  but  I 
was  pleased  at  the  occurrence.  It  would  afford  me 
a  chance  of  bringing  to  a  kind  of  test  the  truth  of  a 
surmise,  which,  more  than  anything  else,  had 
influenced  me  in  attempting  this  ascension.  I  had 
imagined  that  the  habitual  endurance  of  the  atmo¬ 
spheric  pressure  at  the  surface  of  the  earth  was  the 
cause,  or  nearly  so,  of  the  pain  attending  animal 
existence  at  a  distance  above  the  surface.  Should 
the  kittens  be  found  to  suffer  uneasiness  in  an  equal 
degree  with  their  mother,  I  must  consider  my  theory 
in  fault,  but  a  failure  to  do  so  I  should  look  upon  as 
a  strong  confirmation  of  my  idea. 

By  eight  o’clock  I  had  actually  attained  an  eleva¬ 
tion  of  seventeen  miles  above  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
Thus  it  seemed  to  me  evident  that  my  rate  of  ascent 
was  not  only  on  the  increase,  but  that  the  progression 
would  have  been  apparent  in  a  slight  degree  even 
had  I  not  discharged  the  ballast  which  I  did.  The 
pains  in  my  head  and  ears  returned,  at  intervals, 
with  violence,  and  I  still  continued  to  bleed  occasion¬ 
ally  at  the  nose  :  but,  upon  the  whole,  I  suffered 
much  less  than  might  have  been  expected.  I  breathed, 
howrever,  at  every  moment,  with  more  and  more 
difficulty,  and  each  inhalation  was  attended  with  a 
troublesome  spasmodic  action  of  the  chest.  I  now 
unpacked  the  condensing  apparatus,  and  got  it  ready 


HANS  PHAALL. 


61 


for  immediate  use.  The  view  of  the  earth,  at  this 
period  of  my  ascension,  was  beautiful  indeed.  To 
the  westward,  the  northward,  and  the  southward,  as 
far  as  I  could  see,  lay  a  boundless  sheet  of  apparently 
unruffled  ocean,  which  every  moment  gained  a  deeper 
and  a  deeper  tint  of  blue,  and  began  already  to 
assume  a  slight  appearance  of  convexity.  At  a  vast 
distance  to  the  eastward,  although  perfectly  discerni¬ 
ble,  extended  the  islands  of  Great  Britain,  the  entire 
Atlantic  coasts  of  France  and  Spain,  with  a  small 
portion  of  the  northern  part  of  the  continent  of  Africa. 
Of  individual  edifices  not  a  trace  could  be  discovered, 
and  the  proudest  cities  of  mankind  had  utterly  faded 
away  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  From  the  rock  of 
Gibraltar,  now  dwindled  into  a  dim  speck,  the  dark 
Mediterranean  sea,  dotted  with  shining  islands  as  the 
heaven  is  dotted  with  stars,  spread  itself  out  to  the 
eastward  as  far  as  my  vision  extended,  until  its 
entire  mass  of  waters  seemed  at  length  to  tumble 
headlong  over  the  abyss  of  the  horizon,  and  I  found 
myself  listening  on  tiptoe  for  the  echoes  of  the  mighty 
cataract.  Overhead,  the  sky  was  of  a  jetty  black, 
and  the  stars  were  brilliantly  visible. 

The  pigeons  about  this  time  seeming  to  undergo 
much  suffering,  1  determined  upon  giving  them  their 
liberty.  I  first  untied  one  of  them  —  a  beautiful 
gray-mottled  pigeon  —  and  placed  him  upon  the  rim 
of  the  wicker-  work.  He  appeared  extremely  uneasy, 
looking  anxiously  around  him,  fluttering  his  wings, 
and  making  a  loud  cooing  noise  —  but  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  trust  himself  from  oft'  the  car.  I  took 
7# 


62 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


him  up  at  last,  and  threw  him  to  about  half-a-dozen 
yards  from  the  balloon.  He  made,  however,  no 
attempt  to  descend  as  I  had  expected,  but  struggled 
with  great  vehemence  to  get  back,  uttering  at  the 
same  time  very  shrill  and  piercing  cries.  He  at 
length  succeeded  in  regaining  his  former  station  on 
the  rim — but  had  hardly  done  so  when  his  head 
dropped  upon  his  breast,  and  he  fell  dead  within  the 
car.  The  other  one  did-  not  prove  so  unfortunate. 
To  prevent  his  following  the  example  of  his  com¬ 
panion,  and  accomplishing  a  return,  I  threw  him 
downwards  with  all  my  force,  and  was  pleased  to 
find  him  continue  his  descent,  with  great  velocity, 
making  use  of  his  wings  with  ease,  and  in  a  perfectly 
natural  manner.  Jn  a  very  short  time  he  was  out  of 
sight,  and  1  have  no  doubt  he  reached  home  in 
safety.  Puss,  who  seemed  in  a  great  measure  reco¬ 
vered  from  her  illness,  now  made  a  hearty  meal  of 
the  dead  bird,  and  then  went  to  sleep  with  much 
apparent  satisfaction.  Her  kittens  were  quite  lively, 
and  so  far  evinced  not  the  slightest  sign  of  any 
uneasiness  whatever. 

At  a  quarter-past  eight,  being  able  no  longer  to 
draw  breath  at  all  without  the  most  intolerable  pain, 
I  proceeded,  forthwith,  to  adjust  around  the  car  the 
apparatus  belonging  to  the  condenser.  This  ap¬ 
paratus  will  require  some  little  explanation,  and  your 
Excellencies  will  please  to  bear  in  mind  that  my 
object,  in  the  first  place,  was  to  surround  myself 
and  car  entirely  with  a  barricade  against  the  highly 
rarefied  atmosphere  in  which  I  was  existing  —  with 
the  intention  of  introducing  within  this  barricade,  by 


HANS  PHAALL. 


63 


means  of  my  condenser,  a  quantity  of  this  same  at¬ 
mosphere  sufficiently  condensed  for  the  purposes  of 
respiration.  With  this  object  in  view  I  had  prepared 
a  very  strong,  perfectly  air-tight,  but  flexible  gum- 
elastic  bag.  In  this  bag,  which  was  of  sufficient 
dimensions,  the  entire  car  was  in  a  manner  placed. 
That  is  to  say,  it  (the  bag)  was  drawn  over  the 
whole  bottom  of  the  car —  up  its  sides  —  and  so  om 
along  the  outside  of  the  ropes,  to  the  upper  rim  or 
hoop  where  the  net-work  is  attached.  Having  pulled 
the  bag  up  in  this  way,  and  formed  a  complete  en¬ 
closure  on  all  sides,  and  at  bottom,  it  was  now 
necessary  to  fasten  up  its  top  or  mouth,  by  passing 
its  material  over  the  hoop  of  the  net- work — An  other 
wrords  between  the  net-work  and  the  hoop.  But  if 
the  net-work  was  separated  from  the  hoop  to  admit 
this  passage,  what  was  to  sustain  the  car  in  the 
meantime  ?  Now  the  net-work  w  as  not  permanently 
fastened  to  the  hoop,  but  attached  by  a  series  of 
running  loops  or  nooses.  I  therefore  undid  only  a 
few-  of  these  loops  at  one  time,  leaving  the  car  sus¬ 
pended  by  the  remainder.  Having  thus  inserted  a 
portion  of  the  cloth  forming  the  upper  part  of  the 
bag,  I  refastened  the  loops  —  not  to  the  hoop,  for 
that  would  have  been  impossible,  since  the  cloth  now 
intervened, — but  to  a  series  of  large  buttons,  affixed 
to  the  cloth  itself,  about  three  feet  below  the  mouth 
of  the  bag  —  the  intervals  between  the  buttons  hav¬ 
ing  been  made  to  correspond  to  the  intervals  be¬ 
tween  the  loops.  This  done,  a  few  more  of  the 
loops  were  unfastened  from  the  rim,  a  farther  portion 


64 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


of  the  cloth  introduced,  and  the  disengaged  loops 
then  connected  with  their  proper  buttons.  In  this 
way  it  was  possible  to  insert  the  whole  upper  part 
of  the  bag  between  the  net-work  and  the  hoop.  It 
is  evident  that  the  hoop  would  now  drop  down  with¬ 
in  the  car,  while  the  whole  weight  of  the  car  itself, 
with  all  its  contents,  would  be  held  up  merely  by  the 
strength  of  the  buttons.  This,  at  first  sight,  would 
seem  an  inadequate  dependence,  but  it  was  by  no 
means  so,  for  the  buttons  were  not  only  very  strong 
in  themselves,  but  so  close  together  that  a  very 
slight  portion  of  the  whole  weight  was  supported  by 
any  one  of  them.  Indeed,  had  the  car  and  contents 
been  three  times  heavier  than  they  were,  I  should  not 
have  been  at  all  uneasy.  I  now  raised  up  the  hoop 
again  within  the  covering  of  gum-elastic,  and  propped 
it  at  nearly  its  former  height  by  means  of  three 
light  poles  prepared  for  the  occasion.  This  was 
done,  of  course,  to  keep  the  bag  distended  at  the  top, 
and  to  preserve  the  lower  part  of  the  net-work  in  its 
proper  situation.  All  that  now  remained  was  to 
fasten  up  the  mouth  of  the  enclosure  ;  and  this  was 
readily  accomplished  by  gathering  the  folds  of  the 
material  together,  and  twisting  them  up  very  tightly 
on  the  inside  by  means  of  a  kind  of  stationary  tour¬ 
niquet. 

In  the  sides  of  the  covering  thus  adjusted  round 
the  car,  had  been  inserted  three  circular  panes  of 
thick  but  clear  glass,  through  which  I  could  see 
without  difficulty  around  me  in  every  horizontal 
direction.  In  that  portion  of  the  cloth  forming  the 


HANS  PHAALL. 


65 


bottom,  was  likewise  a  fourth  window,  of  the  same 
kind,  and  corresponding  with  a  small  aperture  in  the 
floor  of  the  car  itself.  This  enabled  me  to  see  per¬ 
pendicularly  down,  but  having  found  it  impossible  to 
place  any  similar  contrivance  overhead,  on  account 
of  the  peculiar  manner  of  closing  up  the  opening 
there,  and  the  consequent  wrinkles  in  the  cloth,  I 
could  expect  to  see  no  objects  situated  directly  in  my 
zenith.  This,  of  course,  was  a  matter  of  little  con¬ 
sequence  —  for,  had  I  even  been  able  to  place  a 
window  at  top,  the  balloon  itself  would  have  pre¬ 
vented  my  making  any  use  of  it. 

About  a  foot  below  one  of  the  side  windows  was 
a  circular  opening  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and 
fitted  with  a  brass  rim  adapted  in  its  inner  edge  to 
the  windings  of  a  screw.  In  this  rim  was  screwed 
the  large  tube  of  the  condenser,  the  body  of  the 
machine  being,  of  course,  within  the  chamber  of 
gum-elastic.  Through  this  tube  a  quantity  of  the 
rare  atmosphere  circumjacent  being  drawn  by  means 
of  a  vacuum  created  in  the  body  of  the  machine, 
was  thence  discharged  in  a  state  of  condensation  to 
mingle  with  the  thin  air  already  in  the  chamber. 
This  operation,  being  repeated  several  times,  at 
length  filled  the  chamber  with  atmosphere  proper  for 
all  the  purposes  of  respiration.  But  in  so  confined  a 
space  it  would  in  a  short  time  necessarily  become 
foul,  and  unfit  for  use  from  frequent  contact  with  the 
lungs.  It  was  then  ejected  by  a  small  valve  at  the 
bottom  of  the  car  —  the  dense  air  readily  sinking 
into  t.he  thinner  atmosphere  below.  To  avoid  the 


66 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


inconvenience  of  making  a  total  vacuum  at  any 
moment  within  the  chamber,  this  purification  was 
never  accomplished  all  at  once,  but  in  a  gradual 
manner, —  the  valve  being  opened  only  for  a  few 
seconds,  then  closed  again,  until  one  or  two  strokes 
from  the  pump  of  the  condenser  had  supplied  the 
place  of  the  atmosphere  ejected.  For  the  sake  of 
experiment  I  had  put  the  cat  and  kittens  in  a  small 
basket,  and  suspended  it  outside  the  car  to  a  button 
at  the  bottom,  close  by  the  valve,  through  which  I 
could  feed  them  at  any  moment  when  necessary.  I 
did  this  at  some  little  risk,  and  before  closing  the 
mouth  of  the  chamber,  by  reaching  under  the  car 
with  one  of  the  poles  before-mentioned  to  which  a 
hook  had  been  attached. 

By  the  time  I  had  fully  completed  these  arrange¬ 
ments  and  filled  the  chamber  as  explained,  it  wanted 
only  ten  minutes  of  nine  o’clock.  During  the  whole 
period  of  my  being  thus  employed  I  endured  the 
most  terrible  distress  from  difficulty  of  respiration, 
and  bitterly  did  I  repent  the  negligence,  or  rather 
fool-hardiness,  of  which  I  had  been  guilty  in  putting 
off  to  the  very  last  moment  a  matter  of  so  much 
importance.  But  having  at  length  accomplished  it, 
I  soon  began  to  reap  the  benefit  of  my  invention. 
Once  again  I  breathed  with  perfect  freedom  and 
ease  —  and  indeed  why  should  I  not  ?  I  was  also 
agreeably  surprised  to  find  myself,  in  a  great  measure, 
relieved  from  the  violent  pains  which  had  hitherto 
tormented  me.  A  slight  headache,  accompanied  with 
a  sensation  of  fulness  or  distention  about  the  wrists, 


HANS  PHAALL. 


67 


the  ankles,  and  the  throat,  was  nearly  all  of  which  I 
had  now  to  complain.  Thus  it  seemed  evident  that 
a  greater  part  of  the  uneasiness  attending  the  re¬ 
moval  of  atmospheric  pressure  had  actually  worn  off, 
as  I  had  expected,  and  that  much  of  the  pain  en¬ 
dured  for  the  last  two  hours  should  have  been 
attributed  altogether  to  the  effects  of  a  deficient  re¬ 
spiration. 

At  twenty  minutes  before  nine  o’clock  —  that  is 
to  say  — •  a  short  time  prior  to  my  closing  up  the 
mouth  of  the  chamber,  the  mercury  attained  its  limit, 
or  ran  down,  in  the  barometer,  which,  as  I  men¬ 
tioned  before,  was  one  of  an  extended  construction. 
It  then  indicated  an  altitude  on  my  part  of  132000 
feet,  or  five-and-twenty  miles,  and  I  consequently 
surveyed  at  that  time  an  extent  of  the  earth’s  area 
amounting  to  no  less  than  the  three-hundred-and- 
twentieth  part  of  its  entire  superficies.  At  nine 
o’clock  I  had  again  entirely  lost  sight  of  land  to  the 
eastward,  but  not  before  I  became  fully  aware  that 
the  balloon  -was  drifting  rapidly  to  the  N.N.W.  The 
convexity  of  the  ocean  beneath  me  was  very  evident 
indeed  —  although  my  view  was  often  interrupted 
by  the  masses  of  cloud  which  floated  to  and  fro.  I 
observed  now  that  even  the  lightest  vapors  never 
rose  to  more  than  ten  miles  above  the  level  of  the 
sea. 

At  half-past  nine  I  tried  the  experiment  of  throw¬ 
ing  out  a  handful  of  feathers  through  the  valve. 
They  did  not  float  as  I  had  expected  —  but  dropped 
down  perpendicularly,  like  a  bullet,  en  masse,  and 


68 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


with  the  greatest  velocity  —  being  out  of  sight  in  a 
very  few  seconds.  I  did  not  at  first  know  what  to 
make  of  this  extraordinary  phenomenon:  not  being 
able  to  believe  that  my  rate  of  ascent  had,  of  a 
sudden,  met  with  so  prodigious  an  acceleration. 
But  it  soon  occurred  to  me  that  the  atmosphere  was 
now  far  too  rare  to  sustain  even  the  feathers  —  that 
they  actually  fell,  as  they  appeared  to  do,  with  great 
rapidity  —  and  that  I  had  been  surprised  by  the 
united  velocities  of  their  descent  and  my  own  eleva¬ 
tion. 

By  ten  o’clock  I  found  that  I  had  very  little  to 
occupy  my  immediate  attention.  Affairs  went  on 
swimmingly,  and  I  believed  the  balloon  to  be  going 
upwards  with  a  speed  increasing  momently,  al¬ 
though  I  had  no  longer  any  means  of  ascertaining 
the  progression  of  the  increase.  I  suffered  no  pain 
or  uneasiness  of  any  kind,  and  enjoyed  better  spirits 
than  I  had  at  any  period  since  my  departure  from 
Rotterdam,  busying  myself  now’  in  examining  the 
state  of  my  various  apparatus,  and  now  in  regenera¬ 
ting  the  atmosphere  within  the  chamber.  This  latter 
point  I  determined  to  attend  to  at  regular  intervals 
of  forty  minutes,  more  on  account  of  the  preserva¬ 
tion  of  my  health,  than  from  so  frequent  a  renovation 
being  absolutely  necessary.  In  the  meanwhile  I 
could  not  help  making  anticipations.  Fancy  revelled 
in  the  wild  and  dreamy  regions  of  the  moon.  Ima¬ 
gination,  feeling  herself  for  once  unshackled, 
roamed  at  will  among  the  ever-changing  wonders 
of  a  shadowy  and  unstable  land.  Now  there  were 


HANS  PHAALL. 


69 


hoary  and  time-honored  forests,  and  craggy  preci¬ 
pices,  and  waterfalls  tumbling  with  a  loud  noise  into 
abysses  without  a  bottom.  Then  I  came  suddenly 
into  still  noonday  solitudes  where  no  wind  of  heaven 
ever  intruded,  and  where  vast  meadows  of  poppies, 
and  slender,  lily-looking  flowers  spread  themselves 
out  a  weary  distance,  all  silent  and  motionless  for¬ 
ever.  Then  again  I  journeyed  far  down  away  into 
another  country  where  it  was  all  one  dim  and  vague 
lake,  with  a  boundary-line  of  clouds.  And  out  of 
this  melancholy  water  arose  a  forest  of  tall  eastern 
trees,  like  a  wilderness  of  dreams.  And  I  bore  in 
mind  that  the  shadows  of  the  trees  wdiich  fell  upon 
the  lake  remained  not  on  the  surface  where  they 
fell  —  but  sunk  slowly  and  steadily  down,  and  com¬ 
mingled  with  the  waves,  while  from  the  trunks  of 
the  trees  other  shadows  were  continually  coming 
out,  and  taking  the  place  of  their  brothers  thus  en¬ 
tombed*  “  This,  then,”  I  said  thoughtfully,  “  is  the 
very  reason  why  the  waters  of  this  lake  grow  blacker 
with  age,  and  more  melancholy  as  the  hours  run 
on.”  But  fancies  such  as  these  were  not  the  sole 
possessors  of  my  brain.  Horrors  of  a  nature  most 
stern  and  most  appalling  would  too  frequently  ob¬ 
trude  themselves  upon  my  mind,  and  shake  the 
innermost  depths  of  my  soul  with  the  bare  supposi¬ 
tion  of  their  possibility.  Yet  I  would  not  suffer  my 
thoughts  for  any  length  of  time  to  dwell  upon  these 
latter  speculations,  rightly  judging  the  real  and  pal¬ 
pable  dangers  of  the  voyage  sufficient  for  my  un¬ 
divided  attention. 

VOL.  II. — 8 


70 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


At  five  o’clock  p.m.,  being  engaged  in  regenerating 
the  atmosphere  within  the  chamber,  I  took  that 
opportunity  of  observing  the  cat  and  kittens  through 
the  valve.  The  cat  herself  appeared  to  suffer  again 
very  much,  and  I  had  no  hesitation  in  attributing  her 
uneasiness  chiefly  to  a  difficulty  in  breathing  —  but 
my  experiment  with  the  kittens  had  resulted  very 
strangely.  I  had  expected  of  course  to  see  them 
betray  a  sense  of  pain,  although  in  a  less  degree  than 
their  mother;  and  this  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
confirm  my  opinion  concerning  the  habitual  endurance 
of  atmospheric  pressure.  But  I  was  not  prepared  to 
find  them,  upon  close  examination,  evidently  enjoying 
a  high  degree  of  health,  breathing  with  the  greatest 
ease  and  perfect  regularity,  and  evincing  not  the 
slightest  sign  of  any  uneasiness  whatever.  I  could 
only  account  for  all  this  by  extending  my  theory,  and 
supposing  that  the  highly  rarefied  atmosphere  around 
might  perhaps  not  be,  as  I  had  taken  for  granted, 
chemically  insufficient  for  the  purposes  of  life,  and 
that  a  person  born  in  such  a  medium  might  possibly 
be  unaware  of  any  inconvenience  attending  its  inha¬ 
lation,  while,  upon  removal  to  the  denser  strata  near 
the  earth,  he  might  endure  tortures  of  a  similar  nature 
to  those  I  had  so  lately  experienced.  It  has  since' 
been  to  me  a  matter  of  deep  regret  that  an  awkward 
accident  at  this  time  occasioned  me  the  loss  of  my 
little  family  of  cats,  and  deprived  me  of  the  insight 
into  this  matter  which  a  continued  experiment  might 
have  afforded.  In  passing  my  hand  through  the  valve 
with  a  cup  of  water  for  the  old  puss,  the  sleeve  of  my 


HANS  PHAALL. 


71 


shirt  became  entangled  in  the  loop  which  sustained 
the  basket,  and  thus,  in  a  moment,  loosened  it  from 
the  button.  Had  the  whole  actually  vanished  into 
air  it  could  not  have  shot  from  my  sight  in  a  more 
abrupt  and  instantaneous  manner.  Positively  there 
could  not  have  intervened  the  tenth  part  of  a  second 
between  the  disengagement  of  the  basket  and  its  ab¬ 
solute  and  total  disappearance  with  all  that  it  con¬ 
tained.  My  good  wishes  followed  it  to  the  earth,  but, 
of  course,  I  had  no  hope  that  either  cat  or  kittens 
would  ever  live  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  misfortune. 

At  six  o’clock  I  perceived  a  great  portion  of  the 
earth’s  visible  area  to  the  eastward  involved  in  thick 
shadow,  which  continued  to  advance  with  great 
rapidity  until,  at  five  minutes  before  seven,  the  whole 
surface  in  view  was  enveloped  in  the  darkness  of 
night.  It  was  not,  however,  until  long  after  this  time 
that  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  ceased  to  illumine  the 
balloon ;  and  this  circumstance,  although  of  course 
fully  anticipated,  did  not  fail  to  give  me  an  infinite 
deal  of  pleasure.  It  was  evident  that,  in  the  morning, 
I  should  behold  the  rising  luminary  many  hours  at 
least  before  the  citizens  of  Rotterdam,  in  spite  of  their 
situation  so  much  farther  to  the  eastward,  and  thus, 
day  after  day,  in  proportion  to  the  height  ascended, 
would  I  enjo}^  the  light  of  the  sun  for  a  longer  and  a 
longer  period.  I  now  determined  to  keep  a  journal 
of  my  passage,  reckoning  the  days  from  one  to 
twenty-four  hours  continuously,  without  taking  into 
consideration  the  intervals  of  darkness. 

At  ten  o’clock,  feeling  sleepy,  I  determined  to  lie 


72 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


down  for  the  rest  of  the  night — but  here  a  difficulty 
presented  itself,  which,  obvious  as  it  may  appear,  had 
totally  escaped  my  attention  up  to  the  very  moment 
of  which  I  am  now  speaking.  If  I  went  to  sleep  as 
I  proposed,  how  could  the  atmosphere  in  the  chamber 
be  regenerated  in  the  interim  ?  To  breathe  it  for 
more  than  an  hour,  at  the  farthest,  would  be  a  matter 
of  impossibility ;  or  if  even  this  term  could  be  ex¬ 
tended  to  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  the  most  ruinous 
consequences  might  ensue.  The  consideration  of 
this  dilemma  gave  me  no  little  disquietude,  and  it  will 
hardly  be  believed  that,  after  the  dangers  I  had 
undergone,  I  should  look  upon  this  business  in  so  se¬ 
rious  a  light,  as  to  give  up  all  hope  of  accomplishing 
my  ultimate  design,  and  finally  make  up  my  mind  to 
the  necessity  of  a  descent.  But  this  hesitation  was 
only  momentary.  I  reflected  that  man  is  the  veriest 
slave  of  custom  —  and  that  many  points  in  the  routine 
of  his  existence  are  deemed  essentially  important, 
which  are  only  so  at  all  by  his  having  rendered  them 
habitual.  It  was  very  certain  that  I  could  not  do 
without  sleep  —  but  I  might  easily  bring  myself  to 
feel  no  inconvenience  from  being  awakened  at  regular 
intervals  of  an  hour  during  the  whole  period  of  my 
repose.  It  would  require  but  five  minutes  at  most, 
to  regenerate  the  atmosphere  in  the  fullest  manner, 
and  the  only  real  difficulty  was  to  contrive  a  method 
of  arousing  myself  at  the  proper  moment  for  so  doing. 
But  this  was  a  question  which,  I  am  willing  to  confess, 
occasioned  me  no  little  trouble  in  its  solution.  To  be 
sure,  I  had  heard  of  the  student  who,  to  prevent  his 


HANS  PHAALL. 


73 


falling  asleep  over  his  books,  held  in  one  hand  a  ball 
of  copper,  the  din  of  whose  descent  into  a  basin  of 
the  same  metal  on  the  floor  beside  his  chair,  served 
effectually  to  startle  him  up,  if,  at  any  moment,  he 
should  be  overcome  with  drowsiness.  My  own  case, 
however,  was  very  different  indeed,  and  left  me  no 
room  for  any  similar  idea  —  for  I  did  not  wish  to  keep 
awake,  but  to  be  aroused  from  slumber  at  regular  in¬ 
tervals  of  time.  I  at  length  hit  upon  the  following 
expedient,  which,  simple  as  it  may  seem,  was  hailed 
by  me,  at  the  moment  of  discovery,  as  an  invention 
fully  equal  to  that  of  the  telescope,  the  steam-engine, 
or  the  art  of  printing  itself. 

It  is  necessary  to  premise  that  the  balloon,  at  the 
elevation  now  attained,  continued  its  course  upwards 
with  an  even  and  undeviating  ascent,  and  the  car 
consequently  followed  with  a  steadiness  so  perfect 
that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  detect  in  it  the 
slightest  vacillation  whatever.  This  circumstance 
favored  me  greatly  in  the  project  I  now  determined 
to  adopt.  My  supply  of  water  had  been  put  on  board 
in  kegs  containing  five  gallons  each,  and  ranged 
very  securely  around  the  interior  of  the  car.  I  un¬ 
fastened  one  of  these  —  took  two  ropes,  and  tied  them 
tightly  across  the  rim  of  the  wicker-work  from  one 
side  to  the  other,  placing  them  about  a  foot  apart 
and  parallel,  so  as  to  form  a  kind  of  shelf,  upon  which 
I  placed  the  keg  and  steadied  it  in  a  horizontal  posi¬ 
tion.  About  eight  inches  immediately  below  these 
ropes,  and  four  feet  from  the  bottom  of  the  car,  I 
fastened  another  shelf — but  made  of  thin  plank f 
8* 


74 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


being  the  only  similar  piece  of  wood  I  had.  Upon 
this  latter  shelf,  and  exactly  beneath  one  of  the  rims 
of  the  keg  a  small  earthen  pitcher  was  deposited.  I 
now  bored  a  hole  in  the  end  of  the  keg  over  the 
pitcher,  and  fitted  in  a  plug  of  soft  wood,  cut  in  a 
tapering  or  conical  shape.  This  plug  I  pushed  in  or 
pulled  out,  as  might  happen,  until,  after  a  few  experi¬ 
ments,  it  arrived  at  that  exact  degree  of  tightness,  at 
which  the  water,  oozing  from  the  hole,  and  falling  into 
the  pitcher  below,  should  fill  the  latter  to  the  brim  in 
the  period  of  sixty  minutes.  This,  of  course,  was  a 
matter  briefly  and  easily  ascertained  by  noticing  the 
proportion  of  the  pitcher  filled  in  any  given  time. 
Having  arranged  all  this,  the  rest  of  the  plan  is  ob¬ 
vious.  My  bed  was  so  contrived  upon  the  floor  of 
the  car,  as  to  bring  my  head,  in  lying  down,  imme¬ 
diately  below  the  mouth  of  the  pitcher.  It  was  evi¬ 
dent,  that,  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour,  the  pitcher, 
getting  full,  would  be  forced  to  run  over,  and  to  run 
over  at  the  mouth,  which  was  somewhat  lower  than 
the  rim.  It  was  also  evident,  that  the  water,  thus 
falling  from  a  height  of  better  than  four  feet,  could 
not  do  otherwise  than  fall  upon  my  face,  and  that 
the  sure  consequence  would  be,  to  waken  me  up 
instantaneously,  even  from  the  soundest  slumber  in  the 
world. 

It  was  fully  eleven  by  the  time  I  had  completed 
these  arrangements,  and  I  immediately  betook  myself 
to  bed  with  full  confidence  in  the  efficiency  of  my 
invention.  Nor  in  this  matter  was  I  disappointed. 
Punctually  every  sixty  minutes  was  I  aroused  by  my 


HANS  PHAALL. 


75 


trusty  chronometer,  when,  having  emptied  the  pitcher 
into  the  bung-hole  of  the  keg,  and  performed  the  duties 
of  the  condenser,  I  retired  again  to  bed.  These 
regular  interruptions  to  my  slumber  caused  me  even 
less  discomfort  than  I  had  anticipated,  and  when  I 
finally  arose  for  the  day  it  was  seven  o’clock,  and 
the  sun  had  attained  many  degrees  above  the  line  of 
my  horizon. 

April  3 d.  I  found  the  balloon  at  an  immense 
height  indeed,  and  the  earth’s  apparent  convexity 
increased  in  a  material  degree.  Below  me  in  the 
ocean  lay  a  cluster  of  black  specks,  which  undoubtedly 
were  islands.  Far  away  to  the  northward  I  per¬ 
ceived  a  thin,  white,  and  exceedingly  brilliant  line  or 
streak  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  and  I  had  no  hesi¬ 
tation  in  supposing  it  to  be  the  southern  disk  of  the 
ices  of  the  Polar  sea.  My  curiosity  was  greatly 
excited,  for  I  had  hopes  of  passing  on  much  farther 
to  the  north,  and  might  possibly,  at  some  period,  find 
myself  placed  directly  above  the  Pole  itself.  I  now 
lamented  that  my  great  elevation  would,  in  this  case, 
prevent  my  taking  as  accurate  a  survey  as  I  could 
wish.  Much  however  might  be  ascertained.  No¬ 
thing  else  of  an  extraordinary  nature  occurred  during 
the  day.  My  apparatus  all  continued  in  good  order, 
and  the  balloon  still  ascended  without  any  perceptible 
vacillation.  The  cold  was  intense,  and  obliged  me 
to  wrap  up  closely  in  an  overcoat.  When  darkness 
came  over  the  earth,  I  betook  myself  to  bed,  although 
it  was  for  many  hours  afterwards  broad  daylight  all 
around  my  immediate  situation.  The  water-clock 


76 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


was  punctual  in  its  duty,  and  I  slept  until  next  morn¬ 
ing  soundly  —  with  the  exception  of  the  periodical 
interruption. 

April  4th.  Arose  in  good  health  and  spirits,  and 
was  astonished  at  the  singular  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  appearance  of  the  sea.  It  had  lost, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  deep  tint  of  blue  it  had  hitherto 
worn,  being  now  of  a  grayish-white,  and  of  a  lustre 
dazzling  to  the  eye.  The  islands  were  no  longer 
visible  — whether  they  had  passed  down  the  horizon 
to  the  south-east,  or  whether  my  increasing  elevation 
had  left  them  out  of  sight,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  I 
was  inclined  however,  to  the  latter  opinion.  The 
rim  of  ice  to  the  northward,  was  growing  more  and 
more  apparent.  Cold  by  no  means  so  intense.  No¬ 
thing  of  importance  occurred,  and  I  passed  the  day 
in  reading  —  having  taken  care  to  supply  myself  with 
books. 

April  5th.  Beheld  the  singular  phenomenon  of 
the  sun  rising  while  nearly  the  whole  visible  surface 
of  the  earth  continued  to  be  involved  in  darkness. 
In  time,  however,  the  light  spread  itself  over  all,  and 
I  again  saw  the  line  of  ice  to  the  northward.  It  was 
now  very  distinct,  and  appeared  of  a  much  darker 
hue  than  the  waters  of  the  ocean.  I  was  evidently 
aproaching  it,  and  with  great  rapidity.  Fancied  I 
could  again  distinguish  a  strip  of  land  to  the  eastward 
—  and  one  also  to  the  westward  —  but  could  not  be 
certain.  Weather  moderate.  Nothing  of  any  con¬ 
sequence  happened  during  the  day.  Went  early  to 
bed. 


HANS  PHAALL. 


77 


April  6th.  Was  surprised  at  finding  the  rim  of 
ice  at  a  very  moderate  distance,  and  an  immense  field 
of  the  same  material  stretching  away  off  to  the  horizon 
in  the  north.  It  was  evident  that  if  the  balloon  held 
its  present  course,  it  would  soon  arrive  above  the 
Frozen  Ocean,  and  I  had  now  little  doubt  of  ultimately 
seeing  the  Pole.  During  the  whole  of  the  day  I 
continued  to  near  the  ice.  Towards  night  the  limits 
of  my  horizon  very  suddenly  and  materially  increased, 
owing  undoubtedly  to  the  earth’s  form  being  that  of 
an  oblate  spheroid,  and  my  arriving  above  the  flat¬ 
tened  regions  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Arctic  circle. 
When  darkness  at  length  overtook  me  1  went  to  bed 
in  great  anxiety,  fearing  to  pass  over  the  object  of  so 
much  curiosity  when  I  should  have  no  opportunity  of 
observing  it. 

April  7th.  Arose  early,  and,  to  my  great  joy,  at 
length  beheld  what  there  could  be  no  hesitation  in 
supposing  the  northern  Pole  itself.  It  was  there,  be¬ 
yond  a  doubt,  and  immediately  beneath  my  feet  — 
but,  alas  !  I  had  now  ascended  to  so  vast  a  distance 
that  nothing  could  with  accuracy  be  discerned.  In¬ 
deed,  to  judge  from  the  progression  of  the  numbers 
indicating  my  various  altitudes  respectively  at  different 
periods,  between  six  a.m.  on  the  second  of  April,  and 
twenty  minutes  before  nine  a.m.  of  the  same  day,  (at 
which  time  the  barometer  ran  down,)  it  might  be 
fairly  inferred  that  the  balloon  had  now,  at  four 
o’clock  in  the  morning  of  April  the  seventh,  reached 
a  height  of  not  less  certainly  than  7254  miles  above 
the  surface  of  the  sea.  This  elevation  may  appear 


78 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


immense,  but  the  estimate  upon  which  it  is  calculated 
gave  a  result  in  all  probability  far  inferior  to  the  truth. 
At  all  events  I  undoubtedly  beheld  the  whole  of  the 
earth’s  major  diameter  —  the  entire  northern  hemi¬ 
sphere  lay  beneath  me  like  a  chart  orthographically 
projected  —  and  the  great  circle  of  the  equator  itself 
formed  the  boundary  line  of  my  horizon.  Your  Ex¬ 
cellencies  may,  however,  readily  imagine  that  the 
confined  regions  hitherto  unexplored  within  the  limits 
of  the  Arctic  circle,  although  situated  directly  beneath 
me,  and  therefore  seen  without  any  appearance  of 
being  foreshortened,  were  still,  in  themselves,  com¬ 
paratively  too  diminutive,  and  at  too  great  a  distance 
from  the  point  of  sight  to  admit  of  any  very  accurate 
examination.  Nevertheless  what  could  be  seen  was 
of  a  nature  singular  and  exciting.  Northwardly  from 
that  huge  rim  before  mentioned,  and  which,  with  slight 
qualification,  may  be  called  the  limit  of  human  dis¬ 
covery  in  these  regions,  one  unbroken,  or  nearly  un¬ 
broken  sheet  of  ice  continues  to  extend.  In  the  first 
few  degrees  of  this  its  progress,  its  surface  is  very 
sensibly  flattened  —  farther  on  depressed  into  a  plane 
—  and  finally,  becoming  not  a  little  concave ,  it  ter¬ 
minates  at  the  Pole  itself  in  a  circular  centre,  sharply 
defined,  whose  apparent  diameter  subtended  at  the 
balloon  an  angle  of  about  sixty-five  seconds,  and 
whose  dusky  hue,  varying  in  intensity,  was,  at  all 
times  darker  than  any  other  spot  upon  the  visible 
hemisphere,  and  occasionally  deepened  into  the  most 
absolute  and  impenetrable  blackness.  Farther  than 
this  little  could  be  ascertained.  By  twelve  o’clock 


HANS  PHAALL. 


79 


the  circular  centre  had  materially  decreased  in  cir¬ 
cumference,  and  by  seven  p.m.  I  lost  sight  of  it  entirely 
—  the  balloon  passing  over  the  western  limb  of  the 
ice,  and  floating  away  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the 
equator. 

April  8th.  Found  a  sensible  diminution  in  the 
earth’s  apparent  diameter,  besides  a  material  altera¬ 
tion  in  its  general  color  and  appearance.  The  whole 
visible  area  partook  in  different  degrees  of  a  tint  of 
pale  yellow,  and  in  some  portions  had  acquired  a 
brilliancy  even  painful  to  the  eye.  My  view  down¬ 
wards  was  also  considerably  impeded  by  the  dense 
atmosphere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  surface  being  loaded 
with  clouds,  between  whose  masses  I  could  only  now 
and  then  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  earth  itself.  This 
difficulty  of  direct  vision  had  troubled  me  more  or  less 
for  the  last  forty-eight  hours  —  but  my  present  enor¬ 
mous  elevation  brought  closer  together,  as  it  were, 
the  floating  bodies  of  vapor,  and  the  inconvenience 
became,  of  course,  more  and  more  palpable  in  pro¬ 
portion  to  my  ascent.  Nevertheless  I  could  easily 
perceive  that  the  balloon  now  hovered  above  the 
range  of  great  lakes  in  the  continent  of  North  Ame¬ 
rica,  and  was  holding  a  course  due  south  which 
would  soon  bring  me  to  the  tropics.  This  circum¬ 
stance  did  not  fail  to  give  me  the  most  heartfelt 
satisfaction,  and  I  hailed  it  as  a  happy  omen  of  ul¬ 
timate  success.  Indeed  the  direction  I  had  hitherto 
taken  had  filled  me  with  uneasiness  ;  for  it  was  evident 
that,  had  I  continued  it  much  longer,  there  would 
have  been  no  possibility  of  my  arriving  at  the  moon 


80 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


at  all)  whose  orbit  is  inclined  to  the  ecliptic  at  only 
the  small  angle  of  5°  8'  48". 

April  9th.  To-day,  the  earth’s  diameter  was 
greatly  diminished,  and  the  color  of  the  surface  as¬ 
sumed  hourly  a  deeper  tint  of  yellow.  The  balloon 
kept  steadily  on  her  course  to  the  southward,  and 
arrived  at  nine  p.m.  over  the  northern  edge  of  the 
Mexican  Gulf. 

April  10th.  I  was  suddenly  aroused  from  slumber, 
about  five  o’clock  this  morning,  by  a  loud,  crackling, 
and  terrific  sound,  for  which  I  could  in  no  manner 
account.  It  was  of  very  brief  duration,  but,  while  it 
lasted,  resembled  nothing  in  the  world  of  which  I  had 
any  previous  experience.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
I  became  excessively  alarmed,  having,  in  the  first 
instance,  attributed  the  noise  to  the  bursting  of  the 
balloon.  I  examined  all  my  apparatus,  however, 
with  great  attention,  and  could  discover  nothing  out 
of  order.  Spent  a  great  part  of  the  day  in  meditating 
upon  an  occurrence  so  extraordinary,  but  could  find 
no  means  whatever  of  accounting  for  it.  Went  to 
bed  dissatisfied,  and  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety  and 
agitation. 

April  1 1th.  Found  a  startling  diminution  in  the 
apparent  diameter  of  the  earth,  and  a  considerable 
increase,  now  observable  for  the  first  time,  in  that  of 
the  moon  itself,  which  wanted  only  a  few  days  of 
being  full.  It  now  required  long  and  excessive  labor 
to  condense  within  the  chamber  sufficient  atmospheric 
air  for  the  sustenance  of  life. 

April  12th.  A  singular  alteration  took  place  in 


HANS  PHAALL. 


81 


regard  to  the  direction  of  the  balloon,  and  although 
fully  anticipated,  afforded  me  the  most  unequivocal 
delight.  Having  reached,  in  its  former  course,  about 
the  twentieth  parallel  of  southern  latitude,  it  turned 
off  suddenly  at  an  acute  angle  to  the  eastward,  and 
thus  proceeded  throughout  the  day,  keeping  nearly, 
if  not  altogether,  in  the  exact  plane  of  the  lunar  elipse. 
What  was  worthy  of  remark,  a  very  perceptible  vacil¬ 
lation  in  the  car  was  a  consequence  of  this  change  of 
route  —  a  vacillation  which  prevailed,  in  a  more  or 
less  degree,  for  a  period  of  many  hours. 

April  13 th.  Was  again  very  much  alarmed  by  a 
repetition  of  the  loud  crackling  noise  which  terrified 
me  on  the  tenth.  Thought  long  upon  the  subject, 
but  was  unable  to  form  any  satisfactory  conclusion. 
Great  decrease  in  the  earth’s  apparent  diameter, 
which  now  subtended  from  the  balloon  an  angle 
of  very  little  more  than  twenty-five  degrees.  The 
moon  could  not  be  seen  at  all,  being  nearly  in  my 
zenith.  I  still  continued  in  the  plane  of  the  elipse, 
but  made  little  progress  to  the  eastward. 

April  14 th.  Extremely  rapid  decrease  in  the 
diameter  of  the  earth.  To-day  I  became  strongly 
impressed  with  the  idea,  that  the  balloon  was  now 
actually  running  up  the  line  of  apsides  to  the  point  of 
perigee — in  other  words,  holding  the  direct  course 
which  would  bring  it  immediately  to  the  moon  in 
that  part  of  its  orbit  the  nearest  to  the  earth.  The 
moon  itself  was  directly  over-head,  and  consequently 
hidden  from  my  view.  Great  and  long  continued 

VOL.  ii.  —  9 


82 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


labor  necessary  for  the  condensation  of  the  atmo¬ 
sphere. 

April  15 th.  Not  even  the  outlines  of  continents 
and  seas  could  now  be  traced  upon  the  earth  with 
anything  approaching  to  distinctness.  About  twelve 
o’clock  I  became  aware,  for  the  third  time,  of  that 
unearthly  and  appalling  sound  which  had  so  astonish¬ 
ed  me  before.  It  now,  however,  continued  for  some 
moments  and  gathered  horrible  intensity  as  it  con¬ 
tinued.  At  length,  while  stupified  and  terror-stricken 
I  stood  in  expectation  of  I  know  not  what  hideous 
destruction,  the  car  vibrated  with  excessive  violence, 
and  a  gigantic  and  flaming  mass  of  some  material 
which  I  could  not  distinguish,  came  with  a  voice  of 
a  thousand  thunders,  roaring  and  booming  by  the 
balloon.  When  my  fears  and  astonishment  had  in 
some  degree  subsided,  I  had  little  difficulty  in  sup¬ 
posing  it  to  be  some  mighty  volcanic  fragment  ejected 
from  that  world  to  which  I  was  so  rapidly  approach¬ 
ing,  and,  in  all  probability,  one  of  that  singular  class 
of  substances  occasionally  picked  up  on  the  earth* 
and  termed  meteoric  stones  for  want  of  a  better 
appellation. 

April  \Qth.  To-day,  looking  upwards  as  well  1 
could,  through  each  of  the  side  windows  alternately, 
J  beheld,  to  my  great  delight,  a  very  small  portion  of 
the  moon’s  disk  protruding,  as  it  were,  on  all  sides 
beyond  the  huge  circumference  of  the  balloon.  My 
agitation  was  extreme  —  for  I  had  now  little  doubt 
of  soon  reaching  the  end  of  my  perilous  voyage.  In¬ 
deed  the  labor  now  required  by  the  condenser  had 


HAN'S  PHAALL. 


83 


increased  to  a  most  oppressive  degree,  and  allowed 
me  scarcely  any  respite  from  exertion.  Sleep  was 
a  matter  nearly  out  of  the  question.  I  became  quite 
ill,  and  my  frame  trembled  with  exhaustion.  It  was 
impossible  that  human  nature  could  endure  this  state 
of  intense  suffering  much  longer.  During  the  now 
brief  interval  of  darkness  a  meteoric  stone  again 
passed  in  my  vicinity,  and  the  frequency  of  these 
phenomena  began  to  occasion  me  much  anxiety  and 
apprehension. 

April  17 th.  This  morning  proved  an  epoch  in 
my  voyage.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  on  the 
thirteenth,  the  earth  subtended  an  angular  breadth  of 
twenty-five  degrees.  On  the  fourteenth,  this  had 
greatly  diminished  —  on  the  fifteenth,  a  still  more 
rapid  decrease  was  observable  —  and  on  retiring  for 
the  night  of  the  sixteenth  I  had  noticed  an  angle  of 
no  more  than  about  seven  degrees  and  fifteen  minutes. 
What,  therefore,  must  have  been  my  amazement  on 
awakening  from  a  brief  and  disturbed  slumber  on  the 
morning  of  this  day,  the  seventeenth,  at  finding  the 
surface  beneath  me  so  suddenly  and  wonderfully 
augmented  in  volume  as  to  subtend  no  less  than 
thirty-nine  degrees  in  apparent  angular  diameter  !  I 
was  thunderstruck.  No  words  —  no  earthly  expres¬ 
sion  can  give  any  adequate  idea  of  the  extreme  — 
the  absolute  horror  and  astonishment  with  which  I 
was  seized,  possessed,  and  altogether  overwhelmed. 
My  knees  tottered  beneath  me  —  my  teeth  chattered 
—  my  hair  started  up  on  end.  “  The  balloon  then 
had  actually  burst”  —  these  were  the  first  tumultuous 


84 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


* 

ideas  which  hurried  through  my  mind  —  “  the  bal¬ 
loon  had  positively  burst.  I  was  falling  —  falling  — 
falling  —  with  the  most  intense,  the  most  impetuous, 
the  most  unparalleled  velocity.  To  judge  from  the 
immense  distance  already  so  quickly  passed  over,  it 
could  not  be  more  than  ten  minutes,  at  the  farthest, 
before  I  should  meet  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  be 
hurled  into  annihilation.”  But  at  length  reflection 
came  to  my  relief.  I  paused  —  I  considered  —  and 
I  began  to  doubt.  The  matter  was  impossible.  I 
could  not  in  any  reason  have  so  rapidly  come  down. 
Besides,  although  I  was  evidently  approaching  the 
surface  below  me,  it  was  with  a  speed  by  no  means 
commensurate  with  the  velocity  I  had  at  first  so  hor¬ 
ribly  conceived.  This  consideration  served  to  calm 
the  perturbation  of  my  mind,  and  I  finally  succeeded 
in  regarding  the  phenomenon  in  its  proper  point  of 
view.  In  fact  amazement  must  have  fairly  deprived 
me  of  my  senses  when  I  could  not  see  the  vast  dif¬ 
ference,  in  appearance,  between  the  surface  below 
me,  and  the  surface  of  my  mother  earth.  The  latter 
was  indeed  over  my  head,  and  completely  hidden  by 
the  balloon,  while  the  moon  —  the  moon  itself  in  all 
its  glory  —  lay  beneath  me,  and  at  my  feet. 

The  stupor  and  surprise  produced  in  my  mind  by 
this  extraordinary  change  in  the  posture  of  affairs 
was  perhaps,  after  all,  that  part  of  the  adventure  least 
susceptible  of  explanation.  For  the  bouleversement 
in  itself  was  not  only  natural  and  inevitable,  but  had 
been  long  actually  anticipated  as  a  circumstance  to 
be  expected  whenever  I  should  arrive  at  that  exact 


HANS  PHAALL. 


85 


point  of  my  voyage  where  the  attraction  of  the  planet 
should  be  superseded  by  the  attraction  of  the  satellite 
—  or,  more  precisely,  where  the  gravitation  of  the 
balloon  towards  the  earth  should  be  less  powerful 
than  its  gravitation  towards  the  moon.  To  be  sure 
I  arose  from  a  sound  slumber,  with  all  my  senses  in 
confusion,  to  the  contemplation  of  a  very  startling 
phenomenon,  and  one  which,  although  expected,  was 
not  expected  at  the  moment.  The  revolution  itself 
must,  of  course,  have  taken  place  in  an  easy  and 
gradual  manner,  and  it  is  by  no  means  clear  that, 
had  I  even  been  awake  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence, 
i  should  have  been  made  aware  of  it  by  any  internal 
evidence  of  an  inversion  —  that  is  to  say  by  any  in¬ 
convenience  or  disarrangement  either  about  my  person 
or  about  my  apparatus. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  upon  coming  to  a 
due  sense  of  my  situation,  and  emerging  from  the 
terror  which  had  absorbed  every  faculty  of  my  soul, 
my  attention  was,  in  the  first  place,  wholly  directed 
to  the  contemplation  of  the  general  physical  appear¬ 
ance  of  the  moon.  It  lay  beneath  me  like  a  chart, 
and  although  I  judged  it  to  be  still  at  no  inconsidera¬ 
ble  distance,  the  indentures  of  its  surface  were  defined 
to  my  vision  wdth  a  most  striking  and  altogether  un¬ 
accountable  distinctness.  The  entire  absence  of 
ocean  or  sea,  and  indeed  of  any  lake  or  river,  or 
body  of  water  whatsoever,  struck  me,  at  the  first 
glance,  as  the  most  extraordinary  feature  in  its 
geological  condition.  Yet,  strange  to  say !  I  beheld 
vast  level  regions  of  a  character  decidedly  alluvial 
9# 


86 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


—  although  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  hemi¬ 
sphere  in  sight  was  covered  with  innumerable  volcanic 
mountains,  conical  in  shape,  and  having  more  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  artificial  than  of  natural  protuberances. 
The  highest  among  them  does  not  exceed  three  and 
three-quarter  miles  in  perpendicular  elevation  —  but 
a  map  of  the  volcanic  districts  of  the  Campi  Phle- 
grasi  would  afford  to  your  Excellencies  a  better  idea 
of  their  general  surface  than  any  unworthy  descrip¬ 
tion  I  might  think  proper  to  attempt.  The  greater 
part  of  them  were  in  a  state  of  evident  eruption,  and 
gave  me  fearfully  to  understand  their  fury  and  their 
power  by  the  repeated  thunders  of  the  miscalled 
meteoric  stones  which  now  rushed  upwards  by  the 
balloon  with  a  frequency  more  and  more  appalling. 

April  18 th.  To-day  I  found  an  enormous  increase 
in  the  moon’s  apparent  bulk,  and  the  evidently  ac¬ 
celerated  velocity  of  my  descent  began  to  fill  me  with 
alarm.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  in  the  earliest 
stage  of  my  speculations  upon  the  possibility  of  a 
passage  to  the  moon,  the  existence  in  its  vicinity  of 
an  atmosphere  dense  in  proportion  to  the  bulk  of  the 
planet  had  entered  largely  into  my  calculations  — 
this  too  in  spite  of  many  theories  to  the  contrary, 
and,  it  may  be  added,  in  spite  of  a  general  disbelief 
in  the  existence  of  any  lunar  atmosphere  at  all. 
But,  in  addition  to  what  I  have  already  urged  in 
regard  to  Encke’s  comet  and  the  zodiacal  light,  I 
had  been  strengthened  in  my  opinion  by  certain  ob¬ 
servations  of  Mr.  Schroeter,  of  Lilienthal.  He  ob¬ 
served  the  moon,  when  two  days  and  a  half  old,  in 


HANS  PHAALL. 


87 


the  evening  soon  after  sunset,  before  the  dark  part 
was  visible,  and  continued  to  watch  it  until  it  became 
visible.  The  two  cusps  appeared  tapering  in  a  very 
sharp  faint  prolongation,  each  exhibiting  its  farthest 
extremity  faintly  illuminated  by  the  solar  rays,  before 
any  part  of  the  dark  hemisphere  was  visible.  Soon 
afterwards,  the  whole  dark  limb  became  illuminated. 
This  prolongation  of  the  cusps  beyond  the  semicircle, 
I  thought,  must  have  arisen  from  the  refraction  of  the 
sun’s  rays  by  the  moon’s  atmosphere.  I  computed, 
also,  the  height  of  the  atmosphere  (which  could  re¬ 
fract  light  enough  into  its  dark  hemisphere,  to  pro¬ 
duce  a  twilight  more  luminous  than  the  light  reflected 
from  the  earth  when  the  moon  is  about  32°  from  the 
new)  to  be  1356  Paris  feet;  in  this  view,  I  supposed 
the  greatest  height  capable  of  refracting  the  solar  ray, 
to  be  5376  feet.  My  ideas  upon  this  topic  had  also 
received  confirmation  by  a  passage  in  the  82d  volume 
of  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  in  which  it  is 
stated  that  at  an  occupation  of  Jupiter’s  satellites,  the 
third  disappeared  after  having  been  about  1"  or  2" 
of  time  indistinct,  and  the  fourth  became  indiscernible 
near  the  limb.* 

*  Heve'ius  writes  that  he  has  several  times  found,  in  skies 
perfectly  clear,  when  even  stars  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  magni¬ 
tude  were  conspicuous,  that,  at  the  same  altitude  of  the  moon, 
at  the  same  elongation  from  the  earth,  and  with  one  and  the 
same  excellent  telescope,  the  moon  and  its  macula?  did  not  ap¬ 
pear  equally  lucid  at  all  times.  From  the  circumstances  of  the 
observation,  it  is  evident  that  the  cause  of  this  phenomenon  is 
not  either  in  our  air,  in  the  tube,  in  the  moon,  or  in  the  eye  oi 


88 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Upon  the  resistance,  or  more  properly,  upon  the 
support  of  an  atmosphere,  existing  in  the  state  of 
density  imagined,  I  had,  of  course,  entirely  depended 
for  the  safety  of  my  ultimate  descent.  Should  I  then, 
after  all,  prove  to  have  been  mistaken,  I  had  in  con¬ 
sequence  nothing  better  to  expect  as  a  finale  to  my 
adventure  than  being  dashed  into  atoms  against  the 
rugged  surface  of  the  satellite.  And  indeed  I  had 
now  every  reason  to  be  terrified.  My  distance  from 
the  moon  was  comparatively  trifling,  while  the  labor 
required  by  the  condenser  was  diminished  not  at  all, 
and  I  could  discover  no  indication  whatever  of  a  de¬ 
creasing  rarity  in  the  air. 

April  19 tli.  This  morning,  to  my  great  joy,  about 
nine  o’clock,  the  surface  of  the  moon  being  frightfully 
near,  and  my  apprehensions  excited  to  the  utmost, 
the  pump  of  my  condenser  at  length  gave  evident 
tokens  of  an  alteration  in  the  atmosphere.  By  ten  I 
had  reason  to  believe  its  density  considerably  in¬ 
creased.  By  eleven  very  little  labor  was  necessary 
at.  the  apparatus  —  and  at  twelve  o’clock,  with  some 
hesitation,  I  ventured  to  unscrew  the  tourniquet, 

the  spectator,  but  must  be  looked  for  in  something  (an  atmo¬ 
sphere?)  existing  about  the  moon. 

Cassini  frequently  observed  Saturn,  Jupiter,  and  the  fixed  stars, 
when  approaching  the  moon  to  occultation,to  have  their  circular 
figure  changed  into  an  oval  one,  and,  in  other  occultations,  he 
found  no  alteration  of  figure  at  all.  Hence  it  might  be  supposed 
that  at  some  times  and  not  at  others,  there  is  a  dense  matter  en¬ 
compassing  the  moon  wherein  the  rays  of  the  stars  are  re¬ 
fracted. 


HANS  PHAALL. 


89 


when,  finding  no  inconvenience  from  having  done  so, 
I  finally  threw  open  the  gum-elastic  chamber,  and 
unrigged  it  from  around  the  car.  As  might  have 
been  expected,  spasms  and  violent  headache  were  the 
immediate  consequence  of  an  experiment  so  precipi¬ 
tate  and  full  of  danger.  But  these  and  other  diffi¬ 
culties  attending  respiration,  as  they  were  by  no 
means  so  great  as  to  put  me  in  peril  of  my  life,  I  de¬ 
termined  to  endure  as  I  best  could,  in  consideration 
of  my  leaving  them  behind  me  momently  in  my 
approach  to  the  denser  strata  near  the  moon.  This 
approach,  however,  was  still  impetuous  in  the  ex¬ 
treme  ;  and  it  soon  became  alarmingly  certain  that, 
although  I  had  probably  not  been  deceived  in  the  ex¬ 
pectation  of  an  atmosphere  dense  in  proportion  to  the 
mass  of  the  satellite,  still  I  had  been  wrong  in  sup¬ 
posing  this  density,  even  at  the  surface,  at  all  ade¬ 
quate  to  the  support  of  the  great  weight  contained  in 
the  car  of  my  balloon.  Yet  this  should  have  been 
the  case,  and  in  an  equal  degree  as  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  the  actual  gravity  of  bodies  at  either  planet 
being  supposed  in  the  ratio  of  their  atmospheric  conden¬ 
sation.  That  it  teas  not  the  case  however  my  pre¬ 
cipitous  downfall  gave  testimony  enough  —  why  it 
was  not  so,  can  only  be  explained  by  a  reference  to 
those  possible  geological  disturbances  to  which  I  have 
formerly  alluded.  At  all  events  I  was  now  close 
upon  the  planet,  and  coming  down  with  the  most 
terrible  impetuosity.  I  lost  not  a  moment  accord¬ 
ingly  in  throwing  overboard  first  my  ballast,  then 
my  water-kegs,  then  my  condensing  apparatus  and 


90 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


gum-elastic  chamber,  and  finally  every  individual 
article  within  the  car.  But  it  was  all  to  no  purpose. 
I  still  fell  with  horrible  rapidity,  and  was  now  not 
more  than  half  a  mile  at  farthest  from  the  surface. 
As  a  last  resource,  therefore,  having  got  rid  of  my 
coat,  hat,  and  boots,  I  cut  loose  from  the  balloon  the 
car  itself,  which  was  of  no  inconsiderable  weight, 
and  thus,  clinging  with  both  hands  to  the  hoop  of  the 
net- work,  I  had  barely  time  to  observe  that  the  whole 
country  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was  thickly  in¬ 
terspersed  with  diminutive  habitations,  ere  I  tumbled 
headlong  into  the  very  heart  of  a  fantastical-looking 
city,  and  into  the  middle  of  a  vast  crowd  of  ugly 
little  people,  who  none  of  them  uttered  a  single 
syllable,  or  gave  themselves  the  least  trouble  to  render 
me  assistance,  but  stood,  like  a  parcel  of  idiots,  grin¬ 
ning  in  a  ludicrous  manner,  and  eyeing  me  and  my 
balloon  askant  with  their  arms  set  a-kimbo.  I  turned 
from  them  in  contempt,  and  gazing  upwards  at  the 
earth  so  lately  left,  and  left  perhaps  forever,  beheld 
it  like  a  huge,  dull,  copper  shield,  about  two  degrees 
in  diameter,  fixed  immoveably  in  the  heavens  over¬ 
head,  and  tipped  on  one  of  its  edges  with  a  crescent 
border  of  the  most  brilliant  gold.  No  traces  of  land 
or  water  could  be  discovered,  and  the  whole  was 
clouded  with  variable  spots,  and  belted  with  tropical 
and  equatorial  zones. 

Thus,  may  it  please  your  Excellencies,  after  a 
series  of  great  anxieties,  unheard  of  dangers,  and 
unparalleled  escapes,  I  had,  at  length,  on  the  nine¬ 
teenth  day  of  my  departure  from  Rotterdam,  arrived 


HANS  PHAALL. 


91 


in  safety  at  the  conclusion  of  a  voyage  undoubtedly 
the  most  extraordinary,  and  the  most  momentous, 
ever  accomplished,  undertaken,  or  conceived  by  any 
denizen  of  earth.  But  my  adventures  yet  remain  to 
be  related.  And  indeed  your  Excellencies  may  well 
imagine  that  after  a  residence  of  five  years  upon  a 
planet  not  only  deeply  interesting  in  its  own  peculiar 
character,  but  rendered  doubly  so  by  its  intimate 
connection,  in  capacity  of  satellite,  with  the  world 
inhabited  by  man,  I  may  have  intelligence  for  the 
private  ear  of  the  States’  College  of  Astronomers  of 
far  more  importance  than  the  details,  however  won¬ 
derful,  of  the  mere  voyage  which  so  happily  con¬ 
cluded.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  case.  I  have  much  — 
very  much  which  it  would  give  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  communicate.  I  have  much  to  say  of 
the  climate  of  the  planet  —  of  its  wonderful  alterna¬ 
tions  of  heat  and  cold  —  of  unmitigated  and  burning 
sunshine  for  one  fortnight,  and  more  than  polar 
frigidity  for  the  next  —  of  a  constant  transfer  of 
moisture,  by  distillation  like  that  in  vacuo,  from 
the  point  beneath  the  sun  to  the  point  the  farthest 
from  it  —  of  a  variable  zone  of  running  water  —  of 
the  people  themselves  —  of  their  manners,  customs, 
and  political  institutions  —  of  their  peculiar  physical 
construction  —  of  their  ugliness  —  of  their  want  of 
ears,  those  useless  appendages  in  an  atmosphere  so 
peculiarly  modified — of  their  consequent  ignorance 
of  the  use  and  properties  of  speech  —  of  their  sub¬ 
stitute  for  speech  in  a  singular  method  of  inter- 


92 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


communication  —  of  the  incomprehensible  connection 
between  each  particular  individual  in  the  moon,  with 
some  particular  individual  on  the  earth  —  a  connec¬ 
tion  analogous  with,  and  depending  upon  that  of  the 
orbs  of  the  planet  and  the  satellite,  and  by  means  of 
which  the  lives  and  destinies  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
one  are  interwoven  with  the  lives  and  destinies  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  other — and  above  all,  if  it  so 
please  your  Excellencies,  above  all  of  those  dark  and 
hideous  mysteries  which  lie  in  the  outer  regions  of 
the  moon  —  regions  which,  owing  to  the  almost 
miraculous  accordance  of  the  satellite’s  rotation  on 
its  own  axis  with  its  sidereal  revolution  about  the 
earth,  have  never  yet  been  turned,  and,  by  God’s 
mercy,  never  shall  be  turned,  to  the  scrutiny  of  the 
telescopes  of  man.  All  this,  and  more  —  much  more 
—  would  1  most  willingly  detail.  But  to  be  brief,  I 
must  have  my  reward.  I  am  pining  for  a  return  to 
my  family  and  to  my  home  :  and  as  the  price  of  any 
farther  communications  on  my  part — in  considera¬ 
tion  of  the  light  which  I  have  it  in  my  power  to 
throw  upon  many  very  important  branches  of  phy¬ 
sical  and  metaphysical  science  —  I  must  solicit, 
through  the  influence  of  your  honorable  body,  a 
pardon  for  the  crime  of  which  I  have  been  guilty  in 
the  death  of  the  creditors  upon  my  departure  from 
Rotterdam.  This,  then,  is  the  object  of  the  present 
paper.  Its  bearer,  an  inhabitant  of  the  moon,  whom 
I  have  prevailed  upon,  and  properly  instructed,  to  be 
my  messenger  to  the  earth,  will  await  your  Excel- 


HANS  PHAALL. 


93 


* 


lencies’  pleasure,  and  return  to  me  with  the  pardon 
in  question,  if  it  can,  in  any  manner,  be  obtained. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  &c.,  your  Excellencies5 
very  humble  servant,  hans  phaall. 

Upon  finishing  the  perusal  of  this  very  extra¬ 
ordinary  document,  Professor  Rub-a-dub,  it  is  said, 
dropped  his  pipe  upon  the  ground  in  the  extremity  of 
his  surprise,  and  Mynheer  Superbus  Yon  Underduik 
having  taken  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  de¬ 
posited  them  in  his  pocket,  so  far  forgot  both  himself 
and  his  dignity,  as  to  turn  round  three  times  upon 
his  heel  in  the  quintessence  of  astonishment  and  ad¬ 
miration.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  matter  — 
the  pardon  should  be  obtained.  So  at  least  swore, 
with  a  round  oath,  Professor  Rub-a-dub,  and  so 
finally  thought  the  illustrious  Yon  Underduk,  as  he 
took  the  arm  of  his  brother  in  science,  and  without 
saying  a  word,  began  to  make  the  best  of  his  way 
home  to  deliberate  upon  the  measures  to  be  adopted. 
Having  reached  the  door,  however,  of  the  burgo¬ 
master’s  dwelling,  the  professor  ventured  to  suggest 
that  as  the  messenger  had  thought  proper  to  dis¬ 
appear —  no  doubt  frightened  to  death  by  the  savage 
appearance  of  the  burghers  of  Rotterdam  —  the 
pardon  would  be  of  little  use,  as  no  one  but  a  man 
of  the  moon  would  undertake  a  voyage  to  so  horrible 
a  distance.  To  the  truth  of  this  observation  the 
burgomaster  assented,  and  the  matter  was  therefore 
at  an  end.  Not  so,  however,  rumors  and  specula¬ 
tions.  The  letter,  having  been  published,  gave  rise 
vol.  ii. — 10 


94 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


to  a  variety  of  gossip  and  opinion.  Some  of  the 
over-wise  even  made  themselves  ridiculous  by  decry¬ 
ing  the  whole  business  as  nothing  better  than  a  hoax. 
But  hoax,  with  these  sort  of  people,  is,  I  believe,  a 
general  term  for  all  matters  above  their  comprehen¬ 
sion.  For  my  part  I  cannot  conceive  upon  what 
data  they  have  founded  such  an  accusation.  Let  us 
see  what  they  say : 

Imprimis.  That  certain  wags  in  Rotterdam  have 
certain  especial  antipathies  to  certain  burgomasters 
and  astronomers. 

Don’t  understand  at  all. 

Secondly.  That  an  odd  little  dwarf  and  bottle 
conjurer,  both  of  whose  ears,  for  some  misdemeanor, 
have  been  cut  off  close  to  his  head,  has  been  missing 
for  several  days  from  the  neighboring  city  of  Bruges. 

Well  —  what  of  that! 

Thirdly.  That  the  newspapers  which  were  stuck 
all  over  the  little  balloon  were  newspapers  of  Hol¬ 
land,  and  therefore  could  not  have  been  made  in  the 
moon.  They  were  dirty  papers  —  very  dirty —  and 
Gluck,  the  printer,  would  take  his  bible  oath  to  their 
having  been  printed  in  Rotterdam. 

He  was  mistaken  —  undoubtedly  —  mistaken. 

Fourthly.  That  Hans  Phaall  himself,  the  drunken 
villain,  and  the  three  very  idle  gentlemen  styled  his 
creditors,  were  all  seen,  no  longer  than  two  or  three 
days  ago,  in  a  tippling  house  in  the  suburbs,  having 
just  returned,  with  money  in  their  pockets,  from  a 
trip  beyond  the  sea. 

Don’t  believe  it  —  don’t  believe  a  word  of  it. 


HANS  PHAALL. 


95 


Lastly.  That  it  is  an  opinion  very  generally  re¬ 
ceived,  or  which  ought  to  be  generally  received,  that 
the  College  of  Astronomers  in  the  city  of  Rotterdam 
—  as  well  as  all  other  colleges  in  all  other  parts  of 
the  world  —  not  to  mention  colleges  and  astrono¬ 
mers  in  general  —  are,  to  say  the  least  of  the  matter, 
not  a  whit  better,  nor  greater,  nor  wiser  than  they 
ought  to  be. 


* 


' 


« 


A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


97 


A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


Intensos  rigidam  in  frontem  ascendere  canos 
Passus  erat - . - 

Lucan  —  De  Catone. 


a  bristly  bore. 


Translation. 


“  Let  us  hurry  to  the  walls”  —  said  Abel-Phittim 
to  Buzi-Ben-Levi,  and  Simeon  the  Pharisee,  on  the 
tenth  day  of  the  month  Thammuz,  in  the  year  of  the 
world  three  thousand  nine  hundred  and  forty-one  — 
“  let  us  hasten  to  the  ramparts  adjoining  the  gate  of 
Benjamin,  which  is  in  the  city  of  David,  and  over¬ 
looking  the  camp  of  the  uncircumcised — for  it  is  the 
last  hour  of  the  fourth  watch,  being  sunrise  ;  and  the 
idolaters,  in  fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  Pompey, 
should  be  awaiting  us  with  the  lambs  for  the  sacri¬ 
fices.” 

Simeon,  Abel-Phittim,  and  Buzi-Ben-Levi  were  the 
Gizbarim,  or  sub-collectors  of  the  offering,  in  the 
holy  city  of  Jerusalem. 

“  Verily”  —  replied  the  Pharisee  —  “  let  us  hasten  : 
for  this  generosity  in  the  heathen  is  unwonted  ;  and 
10* 


98 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


fickle-mindedness  has  ever  been  an  attribute  of  the 
worshippers  of  Baal/’ 

“  That  they  are  fickle-minded  and  treacherous  is 
as  true  as  the  Pentateuch”  —  said  Buzi-Ben-Levi  — 
“  but  that  is  only  towards  the  people  of  Adonai. 
When  was  it  ever  known  that  the  Ammonites  proved 
wanting  to  their  own  interest?  Methinks  it  is  no 
great  stretch  of  generosity  to  allow  us  lambs  for  the 
altar  of  the  Lord,  receiving  in  lieu  thereof  thirty 
silver  shekels  per  head  !” 

“  Thou  forgettest,  however,  Ben-Levi”  —  replied 
Abel-Phittim  —  “that  the  Roman  Pompey,  who  is  now 
impiously  besieging  the  city  of  the  Most  High,  has 
no  assurity  that  we  apply  not  the  lambs  thus  pur¬ 
chased  for  the  altar,  to  the  sustenance  of  the  body, 
rather  than  of  the  spirit.” 

“  Now,  by  the  five  corners  of  my  beard”  —  shouted 
the  Pharisee,  who  belonged  to  the  sect  called  The 
Dashers  (that  little  knot  of  saints  whose  manner  of 
dashing  and  lacerating  the  feet  against  the  pavement 
was  long  a  thorn  and  a  reproach  to  less  zealous  de¬ 
votees —  a  stumbling-block  to  less  gifted  perambula¬ 
tors)  —  “  by  the  five  corners  of  that  beard  which  as 
a  priest  I  am  forbidden  to  shave  !  —  have  we  lived 
to  see  the  day  when  a  blaspheming  and  idolatrous 
upstart  of  Rome  shall  accuse  us  of  appropriating  to 
the  appetites  of  the  flesh  the  most  holy  and  conse¬ 
crated  elements?  Have  we  lived  to  see  the  day 
when” - 

“  Let  us  not  question  the  motives  of  the  Philis¬ 
tine” —  interrupted  Abel-Phittim  —  “for  to-day  we 


A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


99 


profit  for  the  first  time  by  his  avarice  or  by  his  gene- 
rosity.  But  rather  let  us  hurry  to  the  ramparts,  lest 
offerings  should  be  wanting  for  that  altar  whose  fire 
the  rains  of  heaven  cannot  extinguish  —  and  whose 
pillars  of  smoke  no  tempest  can  turn  aside.” 

That  part  of  the  city  to  which  our  worthy  Gizba- 
rim  now  hastened,  and  which  bore  the  name  of  its 
architect  King  David,  was  esteemed  the  most  strongly 
fortified  district  of  Jerusalem  —  being  situated  upon 
the  steep  and  lofty  hill  of  Zion.  Here  a  broad,  deep, 
circumvallatory  trench —  hewn  from  the  solid  rock  — 
was  defended  by  a  wall  of  great  strength  erected 
upon  its  inner  edge.  This  wall  was  adorned,  at 
regular  interspaces,  by  square  towers  of  white 
marble  —  the  lowest  sixty —  the  highest  one  hundred 
and  twenty  cubits  in  height.  But  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  gate  of  Benjamin  the  wall  arose  by  no  means  im¬ 
mediately  from  the  margin  of  the  fosse.  On  the  con¬ 
trary,  between  the  level  of  the  ditch  and  the  basement 
of  the  rampart,  sprang  up  a  perpendicular  cliff  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  cubits  —  forming  part  of  the  preci¬ 
pitous  Mount  Moriah.  So  that  when  Simeon  and  his 
associates  arrived  on  the  summit  of  the  tower  called 
Adoni-Bezek  —  the  loftiest  of  all  the  turrets  around 
about  Jerusalem,  and  the  usual  place  of  conference 
with  the  besieging  army — they  looked  down  upon 
the  camp  of  the  enemy  from  an  eminence  excelling, 
by  many  feet,  that  of  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops,  and, 
by  several,  that  of  the  Temple  of  Belus. 

“  Verily”  —  sighed  the  Pharisee,  as  he  peered 
dizzily  over  the  precipice  —  “the  uncircumciscd  are 


100 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


as  the  sands  by  the  sea-shore  —  as  the  locusts  in  the 
wilderness  !  The  valley  of  The  King  hath  become 
the  valley  of  Adorn  min.” 

“  And  yet”  —  added  Ben-Levi  —  “  thou  canst  not 
point  me  out  a  Philistine  —  no,  not  one  —  from  Aleph 
to  Tau  —  from  the  wilderness  to  the  battlements  — 
who  seemeth  any  bigger  than  the  letter  Jod  !” 

“  Lower  away  the  basket  with  the  shekels  of  silver !” 

—  here  shouted  a  Roman  soldier  in  a  hoarse,  rough 
voice,  which  appeared  to  issue  from  the  regions  of 
Pluto —  “  lower  away  the  basket  with  that  accursed 
coin  which  it  has  broken  the  jaw  of  a  noble  Roman 
to  pronounce !  Is  it  thus  you  evince  your  gratitude 
to  our  master  Pompeius,  who,  in  his  condescension, 
has  thought  fit  to  listen  to  your  idolatrous  importu¬ 
nities  ?  The  god  Phoebus,  who  is  a  true  god,  has 
been  charioted  for  an  hour — and  were  you  not  to 
be  on  the  ramparts  by  sunrise  ?  iEdepol !  do  you 
think  that  we,  the  conquerors  of  the  world,  have 
nothing  better  to  do  than  stand  waiting  by  the  walls 
of  every  kennel,  to  traffic  with  the  dogs  of  the  earth  1 
Lower  away!  I  say — and  see  that  your  trumpery 
be  bright  in  color,  and  just  in  weight !” 

“El  Elohim!”  —  ejaculated  the  Pharisee,  as  the 
discordant  tones  of  the  centurion  rattled  up  the  crags 
of  the  precipice,  and  fainted  away  against  the 
Temple  —  El  Elohim  !  —  who  is  the  god  Phoebus  ? 

—  whom  doth  the  blasphemer  invoke?  Thou,  Buzi- 
Ben-Levi  !  who  art  read  in  the  laws  of  the  Gentiles, 
and  hast  sojourned  among  them  who  dabble  with  the 
Teraphim !  —  is  it  Nergal  of  whom  the  idolator 


A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


101 


speaketh  ? —  or  Ashimah  ?  —  or  Nibhaz  ?  —  or  Tar¬ 
tar  —  or  Adramalech  ? —  or  Anamalech? — or  Suc- 
coth-Benoth  ?  —  or  Dagon  ?  —  or  Belial  1  — or  Baal- 
Perith  ?  —  or  Baal-Peor  1  —  or  Baal-Zebub  V’ 

“Verily,  it  is  neither  —  but  beware  how  thou 
lettest  the  rope  slip  too  rapidly  through  thy  fingers  — 
for  should  the  wicker-work  chance  to  hang  on  the 
projection  of  yonder  crag,  there  will  be  a  woful  out¬ 
pouring  of  the  holy  things  of  the  sanctuary.” 

By  the  assistance  of  some  rudely-constructed  ma¬ 
chinery,  the  heavily-laden  basket  was  now  lowered 
carefully  down  among  the  multitude  —  and,  from  the 
giddy  pinnacle,  the  Romans  were  seen  crowding 
confusedly  around  it  —  but,  owing  to  the  vast  height 
and  the  prevalence  of  a  fog,  no  distinct  view  of  their 
operations  could  be  obtained. 

A  half-hour  had  already  elapsed. 

“  We  shall  be  too  late”  —  sighed  the  Pharisee,  as, 
at  the  expiration  of  this  period,  he  looked  over  into 
the  abyss  —  “  we  shall  be  too  late  —  we  shall  be 
turned  out  of  office  by  the  Ivatholim.” 

“No  more” — responded  Abel-Phittim — “no  more 
shall  we  feast  upon  the  fat  of  the  land  —  no  longer 
shall  our  beards  be  odorous  with  frankincense  — 
our  loins  girded  up  with  fine  linen  from  the  Temple.” 

“  Raca  !”  —  swore  Ben-Levi  —  “  Raca !  —  do  they 
mean  to  defraud  us  of  the  purchase-money  ?  —  or, 
Holy  Moses  !  are  they  weighing  the  shekels  of  the 
tabernacle  V* 

“They  have  given  the  signal  at  last” — cried  the 
Pharisee  —  “they  have  given  the  signal  at  last!  — 


102 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


pull  away,  Abel-Phittim  !  —  and  thou,  Buzi-Ben-Levi, 
pull  away! — for  verily  the  Philistines  have  either 
still  hold  upon  the  basket,  or  the  Lord  hath  softened 
their  hearts  to  place  therein  a  beast  of  good  weight !” 
And  the  Gizbarim  pulled  away,  while  their  burthen 
swung  heavily  upwards  through  the  still  increasing 
mist. 


#  #  #  #  #  #  .#  # 

“  Booshoh  he  !”  —  as,  at  the  conclusion  of  an  hour, 
some  object  at  the  extremity  of  the  rope  became  in¬ 
distinctly  visible  —  “  Booshoh  he  !”  —  was  the  excla¬ 
mation  which  burst  from  the  lips  of  Ben-Levi. 

“  Booshoh  he  !  —  for  shame  !  —  it  is  a  ram  from 
the  thickets  of  Engedi,  and  as  rugged  as  the  valley 
of  Jehosaphat!” 

“  It  is  a  firstling  of  the  flock,”  —  said  Abel-Phittim 

—  “I  know  him  by  the  bleating  of  his  lips,  and  the 
innocent  folding  of  his  limbs.  His  eyes  are  more 
beautiful  than  the  jewels  of  the  Pectoral  —  and  his 
flesh  is  like  the  honey  of  Hebron.” 

“  It  is  a  fatted  calf  from  the  pastures  of  Bashan” 

—  said  the  Pharisee  —  “  the  heathen  have  dealt 
wonderfully  with  us  —  let  us  raise  up  our  voices  in  a 
psalm  —  let  us  give  thanks  on  the  shawm  and  on  the 
psaltery  —  on  the  harp  and  on  the  huggab — on  the 
cythern  and  on  the  sackbut.” 

It  was  not  until  the  basket  had  arrived  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  Gizbarim,  that  a  low  grunt  betrayed 
to  their  perception  a  hog  of  no  common  size. 


A  TALE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


103 


“Now  El  Emanu  !”  —  slowly,  and  with  upturned 
eyes  ejaculated  the  trio,  as,  letting  go  their  hold,  the 
emancipated  porker  tumbled  headlong  among  the 
Philistines  —  “  El  Emanu  !  —  God  be  with  us  !  —  it 
is  the  unutterable  flesh  !” 

“  Let  me  no  longer,”  said  the  Pharisee,  wrapping 
his  cloak  around  him  and  departing  within  the  city  — 
“  let  me  no  longer  be  called  Simeon,  which  signifieth, 
‘  he  who  listens’  —  but  rather  Boanerges,  ‘  the  son  of 
Thunder.’” 


«  if 

hi/1  '  : 

i  *  * 

y 


*  .  J  -  i 


. 

■  .  ■  ;  i:i ' 

■ 


v% 

; 


VON  JUNG. 


105 


VON  JUNG. 


My  friend,  the  Baron  Ritzner  Von  Jung,  was  of  a 
noble  Hungarian  family,  every  member  of  which  (at 
least  as  far  back  into  antiquity  as  any  certain  records 
extend)  was  more  or  less  remarkable  for  talent  of 
some  description — the  majority  for  that  species  of 
grotesquerie  in  conception  of  which  Tieck,  a  scion 
of  the  house,  has  given  some  vivid,  although  by  no 
means  the  most  vivid  exemplifications.  My  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  him  —  with  Ritzner  —  commenced  at  the 
magnificent  Chateau  Jung,  into  which  a  train  of 
droll  adventures,  not  to  be  made  public,  threw  me 
par  hazard  during  the  summer  months  of  the  year 
18 — .  Here  it  was  I  obtained  a  place  in  his  regard, 
and  here,  with  somewhat  more  difficulty,  a  partial 
insight  into  his  mental  conformation.  In  later  days 
this  insight  grew  more  clear,  as  the  intimacy  which 
had  at  first  permitted  it  became  more  close;  and 

when,  after  three  years  separation,  we  met  at  G - n, 

I  knew  all  that  it  was  necessary  to  know  of  the 
character  of  the  Baron  Ritzner  Von  Jung. 

I  remember  the  buzz  of  curiosity  which  his  advent 
excited  within  the  college  precincts  on  the  night  of  the 

VOL.  ii. — 11 


106 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


twenty-fifth  of  June.  I  remember  still  more  distinctly, 
that  while  he  was  pronounced  by  all  parties  at  first 
sight  “  the  most  remarkable  man  in  the  world,”  no 
person  made  any  attempt  at  accounting  for  this 
opinion.  That  he  was  unique  appeared  so  undenia¬ 
ble,  it  wras  deemed  not  pertinent  to  inquire  wherein 
the  uniquity  consisted.  But,  letting  this  matter  pass 
for  the  present,  I  will  merely  observe  that,  from  the 
first  moment  of  his  setting  foot  within  the  limits  of 
the  university,  he  began  to  exercise  over  the  habits, 
manners,  persons,  purses,  moral  feelings,  and  physical 
propensities  of  the  whole  community  which  surrounded 
him,  an  influence  the  most  extensive  and  absolutely 
despotic,  yet  at  the  same  time  the  most  indefinitive 
and  altogether  unaccountable.  Thus  the  brief  period 
of  his  residence  at  the  university  forms  an  era  in  its 
annals,  and  is  characterized  by  all  classes  of  people 
appertaining  to  it  or  its  dependencies  as  “  that  very 
extraordinary  epoch  forming  the  domination  of  the 
Baron  Ritzner  Vong  Jung.” 

I  have  seen  —  and  be  it  here  borne  in  mind  that 
gentlemen  still  living  in  Gotham  who  have  been  with 
myself  witness  of  these  things  will  have  full  recollec¬ 
tion  of  the  passages  to  which  I  now  merely  allude 

—  I  have  seen,  then,  the  most  outrageously  prepos¬ 
terous  of  events  brought  about  by  the  most  intangible 
and  apparently  inadequate  of  means.  I  have  seen 

—  what,  indeed,  have  I  not  seen  ?  I  have  seen  Vil- 

lanova,  the  danseuse,  lecturing  in  the  chair  of  Na¬ 
tional  Law,  and  I  have  seen  D - ,  P - ,  T - , 

and  Yon  C - ,  all  enraptured  with  her  profundity. 


VON  JUNG. 


107 


I  have  seen  the  protector,  the  consul,  and  the  whole 
faculty  aghast  at  the  convolutions  of  a  weathercock. 
I  have  seen  Sontag  received  with  hisses,  and  a 
hurdy-gurdy  with  sighs.  I  have  seen  an  ox-cart, 
with  oxen,  on  the  summit  of  the  Rotunda.  I  have 

seen  all  the  pigs  of  G - n  in  periw’igs,  and  all  her 

cows  in  canonicals.  I  have  seen  fifteen  hundred 

vociferous  cats  in  the  steeple  of  St.  P - .  I  have 

seen  the  college  chapel  bombarded  —  I  have  seen  the 
college  ramparts  most  distressingly  placarded  —  I 
have  seen  the  whole  world  by  the  ears  —  I  have  seen 
old  Wertemuller  in  tears  —  and,  more  than  all,  I  have 
seen  such  events  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  most 
reasonable,  commendable,  and  inevitable  things  in 
creation,  through  the  silent,  yet  all-pervading  and 
magical  influence  of  the  dominator  Baron  Ritzner 
Yon  Jung. 

Upon  the  Baron’s  advent  to  G - n,  he  sought  me 

out  in  my  apartments.  He  was  then  of  no  particular 
age  —  by  which  I  mean  that  it  was  impossible  to 
form  a  guess  respecting  his  age  by  any  data  personally 
afforded.  He  might  have  been  fifteen  or  fifty,  and 
was  twenty-one  years  and  seven  months.  In  stature 
he  was  about  five  feet  eight  inches.  He  was  by  no 
means  a  handsome  man  —  perhaps  rather  the  reverse. 
The  contour  of  his  face  wras  somewhat  angular  and 
harsh.  His  forehead  was  lofty  and  very  fair ;  his 
nose  a  snub ;  his  eyes  large,  heavy,  glassy  and 
meaningless.  About  the  mouth  there  was  more  to 
be  observed.  The  lips  w?ere  gently  protruded,  and 
rested  the  one  upon  the  other  after  such  fashion  that 


108 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


it  is  impossible  to  conceive  any,  even  the  most  com¬ 
plex,  combination  of  human  features,  conveying  so 
entirely,  and  so  singly,  the  idea  of  unmitigated  gravity, 
solemnity,  and  repose.  My  readers  have  thus  the 
physical  baron  before  them.  What  I  shall  add  res- 
pectingthose  mental  peculiarities  to  which  I  have  as  yet 
only  partially  adverted,  will  be  told  in  my  own  words 
—  for  I  find  that,  in  speaking  of  my  friend,  I  have 
been  falling  unwittingly  into  one  of  the  many  odd 
literary  mannerisms  of  the  dominator  Baron  Ritzner 
Yon  Jung. 

It  will  be  perceived,  no  doubt,  from  what  I  have 
already  said,  that  the  Baron  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  one  of  those  human  anomalies  now  and  then 
to  be  found,  who  make  the  science  of  mystification 
the  study  and  the  business  of  their  lives.  For  this 
science  a  peculiar  turn  of  mind  gave  him  instinctively 
the  cue,  while  his  physical  appearance  afforded  him 
unusual  facilities  for  carrying  his  projects  into  effect. 

I  firmly  believe  that  no  student  at  G - n,  during 

that  renowned  epoch  so  quaintly  termed  the  domina¬ 
tion  of  the  Baron  Ritzner  Yon  Jung,  ever  rightly 
entered  into  the  mystery  which  overshadowed  his 
character.  I  truly  think  that  no  person  at  the  uni¬ 
versity,  with  the  exception  of  myself,  ever  suspected 
him  to  be  capable  of  a  joke,  verbal  or  practical  — 
the  old  bull-dog  at  the  garden-gate  would  sooner  have 
been  accused  —  the  ghost  of  Heraclitus  —  or  the 
wig  of  the  Emeritus  Professor  of  Theology.  This, 
too,  when  it  was  evident  that  the  most  egregious  and 
unpardonable  of  all  conceivable  tricks,  whimsicalities, 


VON  JUNG. 


109 


and  buffooneries  were  brought  about,  if  not  directly 
by  him,  at  least  plainly  through  his  intermediate 
agency  or  connivance.  The  beauty,  if  I  may  so  call 
it,  of  his  art  mystifique  lay  in  that  consummate  ability 
(resulting  from  an  almost  intuitive  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  the  most  wonderful  self-posses¬ 
sion),  by  means  of  which  he  never  failed  to  make  it 
appear  that  the  drolleries  he  was  occupied  in  bringing 
to  a  point,  arose  partly  in  spite,  and  partly  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  the  laudable  efforts  he  was  making  for 
their  prevention,  and  for  the  preservation  of  the  good 
order  and  dignity  of  Alma  Mater.  The  deep,  the 
poignant,  the  overwhelming  mortification  which,  upon 
each  such  failure  of  his  praiseworthy  endeavors, 
would  suffuse  every  lineament  of  his  countenance, 
left  not  the  slightest  room  for  doubt  of  his  sincerity  in 
the  bosoms  of  even  his  most  sceptical  companions. 
The  adroitness,  too,  was  no  less  worthy  of  observa¬ 
tion  by  which  he  contrived  to  shift  the  sense  of  the 
grotesque  from  the  creator  to  the  created  —  from  his 
own  person  to  the  absurdities  to  which  he  had  given 
rise.  How  this  difficult  point  was  accomplished  I 
have  become  fully  aware  by  means  of  a  long  course 
of  observation  on  the  oddities  of  my  friend,  and  by 
means  of  frequent  dissertations  on  the  subject  from 
himself ;  but  upon  this  matter  I  cannot  dilate.  In 
no  instance,  however,  before  that  of  which  I  speak, 
have  I  known  the  habitual  mystific  escape  the  natural 
consequence  of  his  manoeuvres,  an  attachment  of  the 
ludicrous  to  his  own  character  and  person.  Con¬ 
tinually  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  of  whim,  my 
11* 


110 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


friend  appeared  to  live  only  for  the  severities  of 
society ;  and  not  even  his  own  household  have  for 
a  moment  associated  other  ideas  than  those  of  the 
rigid  and  august  with  the  memory  of  the  Baron  Ritz- 
ner  Von  Jung. 

To  enter  fully  into  the  labyrinths  of  the  Baron’s 
finesse,  or  even  to  follow  him  in  that  droll  career  of 
practical  mystification  which  gave  him  so  wonderful 

an  ascendency  over  the  mad  spirits  of  G - n,  would 

lead  me  to  a  far  greater  length  than  I  have  prescribed 
to  myself  in  this  article.  I  may  dwell  upon  these 
topics  hereafter,  and  then  not  in  petto.  I  am  well 
aware  that  in  tracing  minutely  and  deliberately  to 
their  almost  magical  results  the  operations  of  an 
intellect  like  that  of  Ritzner,  wherein  an  hereditary 
and  cultivated  taste  for  the  bizarre  was  allied  with 
an  intuitive  acumen  in  regard  to  the  every-day  im¬ 
pulses  of  the  heart  —  an  untrodden  field  would  be 
found  to  lie  open  before  me,  rich  in  novelty  and  vigor, 
of  emotion  and  incident,  and  abounding  in  rare  food 
for  both  speculation  and  analysis.  But  this,  I  have 
already  said,  could  not  be  accomplished  in  little  space. 
Moreover,  the  Baron  is  still  living  in  Belgium,  and  it 
is  not  without  the  limits  of  the  possible  that  his  eye 
may  rest  upon  what  lam  now  writing.  I  shall  be 
careful,  therefore,  not  to  disclose,  at  least  thus  and 
here,  the  mental  machinery  which  he  has  a  pleasure, 
however  whimsical,  in  keeping  concealed.  An  anec¬ 
dote  at  random,  however,  may  convey  some  idea  of 
the  spirit  of  his  practice.  The  method  varied  ad  in¬ 
finitum  ;  and  in  this  well-sustained  variety  lay  chiefly 


VON  JUNG. 


Ill 


the  secret  of  that  unsuspectedness  with  which  his 
multifarious  operations  were  conducted. 

During  the  epoch  of  the  domination  it  really  ap¬ 
peared  that  the  demon  of  the  dolce  far  niente  lay 
like  an  incubus  upon  the  university.  Nothing  was 
done,  at  least,  beyond  eating  and  drinking,  and  making 
merry.  The  apartments  of  the  students  were  con¬ 
verted  into  so  many  pot-houses,  and  there  was  no 
pot-house  of  them  all  more  famous  or  more  frequented 
than  that  of  your  humble  servant,  and  the  Baron 
Ritzner  Yon  Jung  —  for  it  must  be  understood  that 
we  were  chums.  Our  carousals  here  were  many, 
and  boisterous,  and  long,  and  never  unfruitful  of 
events. 

Upon  one  occasion  we  had  protracted  our  sitting 
until  nearly  daybreak,  and  an  unusual  quantity  of 
wine  had  been  drunk.  The  company  consisted  of 
seven  or  eight  individuals  besides  the  Baron  and 
myself.  Most  of  these  were  young  men  of  wealth, 
of  high  connexion,  of  great  family  pride,  and  all  alive 
with  an  exaggerated  sense  of  honor.  They  abounded 
in  the  most  ultra  German  opinions  respecting  the 
duello.  To  these  Quixottic  notions  some  recent  Pa¬ 
risian  publications,  backed  by  three  or  four  desperate 

and  fatal  rencontres  at  G - n,  had  given  new 

vigor  and  impulse  ;  and  thus  the  conversation,  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  night,  had  run  wild  upon  the 
all-engrossing  topic  of  the  times.  The  Baron,  w?ho 
had  been  unusually  silent  and  abstracted  in  the  earlier 
portion  of  the  evening,  at  length  seemed  to  be  aroused 
from  his  apathy,  took  a  leading  part  in  the  discourse, 


112 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


and  dwelt  upon  the  benefits,  and  more  especially  upon 
the  beauties,  of  the  received  code  of  etiquette  in  pas¬ 
sages  of  arms,  with  an  ardor,  an  eloquence,  an  im¬ 
pressiveness,  and,  if  I  may  so  speak,  an  affectionate¬ 
ness  of  manner,  which  elicited  the  warmest  enthusiasm 
from  his  hearers  in  general,  and  absolutely  staggered 
even  myself,  who  well  knew  him  to  be  at  heart  a 
ridiculer  of  those  very  points  for  which  he  contended, 
and  especially  to  hold  the  entire  fanfaronade  of 
duelling  etiquette  in  the  sovereign  contempt  which  it 
deserves. 

Looking  around  me  during  a  pause  in  the  Baron’s 
discourse,  (of  which  my  readers,  may  gather  some 
faint  idea  when  I  say  that  it  bore  resemblance  to  the 
fervid,  chanting,  monotonous,  yet  musical,  sermonic 
manner  of  Coleridge,)  I  perceived  symptoms  of  even 
more  than  the  general  interest  in  the  countenance  of 
one  of  the  party.  This  gentleman,  whom  I  shall 
call  Hermann,  was  an  original  in  every  respect,  ex¬ 
cept  perhaps  in  the  single  particular  that  he  was  one 
of  the  greatest  asses  in  all  Christendom.  He  con¬ 
trived  to  bear,  however,  among  a  particular  set  at 
the  university,  a  reputation  for  deep  metaphysical 
thinking,  and,  I  believe,  for  some  logical  talent.  His 
personal  appearance  was  so  peculiar  that  I  feel  con¬ 
fident  my  outline  of  him  will  be  recognised  at  once 
by  all  who  have  been  in  company  with  the  model. 
He  was  one  of  the  tallest  men  1  have  ever  seen,  beino- 
full  six  feet  and  a  half.  His  proportions  were  sin¬ 
gularly  mal-apropos.  His  legs  were  brief,  bowed, 
and  very  slender;  while  above  them  arose  a  trunk 


VON  JUNG. 


113 


worthy  of  the  Farnesian  Hercules.  His  shoulders, 
nevertheless,  were  round,  his  neck  long  although 
thick,  and  a  general  stoop  forward  gave  him  a 
slouching  air.  His  head  was  of  colossal  dimensions, 
and  overshadowed  by  a  dense  mass  of  straight  raven 
hair,  two  huge  locks  of  which,  stiffly  plastered  with 
pomatum,  extended  with  a  lachrymose  air  down  the 
temples,  and  partially  over  the  cheek  bones  —  a 
fashion  which  of  late  days  has  wormed  itself  (the 
wonder  is  that  it  has  not  arrived  here  before)  into 
the  good  graces  of  the  denizens  of  the  United  States. 
But  the  face  itself  was  the  chief  oddity.  The  upper 
region  was  finely  proportioned,  and  gave  indication 
of  the  loftiest  species  of  intellect.  The  forehead  was 
massive  and  broad,  the  organs  of  ideality  over  the 
temples,  as  well  as  those  of  causality,  comparison, 
and  eventuality,  which  betray  themselves  above  the 
os  frontis,  being  so  astonishingly  developed  as  to 
attract  the  instant  notice  of  every  person  who  saw 
him.  The  eyes  were  full,  brilliant,  beaming  with 
what  might  be  mistaken  for  intelligence,  and  well 
relieved  by  the  short,  straight,  picturesque-looking 
eyebrow,  which  is  perhaps  one  of  the  surest  indica¬ 
tions  of  general  ability.  The  aquiline  nose,  too,  was 
superb  ;  certainly  nothing  more  magnificent  was  ever 
beheld,  nothing  more  delicate  nor  more  exquisitely 
modelled.  All  these  things  were  well  enough,  as  I 
have  said;  it  was  the  inferior  portions  of  the  visage 
which  abounded  in  deformity,  and  which  gave  the 
lie  instanter  to  the  tittle-tattle  of  the  superior.  The 
upper  lip  (a  huge  lip  in  length)  had  the  appearance 


114 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


of  being  swollen  as  by  the  sting  of  a  bee,  and  was 
rendered  still  more  atrocious  by  a  little  spot  of  very 
black  mustachio  immediately  beneath  the  nose.  The 
under  lip,  apparently  disgusted  with  the  gross  obesity 
of  its  fellow,  seemed  bent  upon  resembling  it  as  little 
as  might  be,  and  getting  as  far  removed  from  it  as 
possible.  It  was  accordingly  very  curt  and  thin, 
hanging  back  as  if  utterly  ashamed  of  being  seen  ; 
while  the  chin,  retreating  still  an  inch  or  two  farther, 
might  have  been  taken  for  —  anything  in  the  universe 
but  a  chin. 

In  this  abrupt  transition,  or  rather  descent,  in 
regard  to  character,  from  the  upper  to  the  lower  re¬ 
gions  of  the  face,  an  analogy  was  preserved  between 
the  face  itself  and  the  body  at  large,  whose  peculiar 
construction  I  have  spoken  of  before.  The  result  of 
the  entire  conformation  was,  that  opinions  directly 
conflicting  were  daily  entertained  in  respect  to  the 
personal  appearance  of  Hermann.  Erect,  he  was 
absolutely  hideous,  and  seemed  to  be,  what  in  fact 
he  really  wras,  a  fool.  At  table,  with  his  hands  cover¬ 
ing  the  lower  part  of  his  visage,  (an  attitude  of  deep 
meditation  which  he  much  affected,)  truly  I  never 
witnessed  a  more  impressive  tableait  than  his  general 
appearance  presented.  As  a  duellist  he  had  acquired 

great  renown,  even  at  G - n.  I  forget  the  precise 

number  of  victims  who  had  fallen  at  his  hands  —  but 
they  were  many.  He  was  a  man  of  courage  un¬ 
doubtedly.  But  it  was  upon  his  minute  acquaintance 
with  the  etiquette  of  the  duello,  and  the  nicety  of  his 
sense  of  honor,  that  he  most  especially  prided  himself. 


VON"  JUNG. 


115 


These  things  were  a  hobby  which  he  rode  to  the 
death.  To  Ritzner,  ever  upon  the  look-out  for  the 
grotesque,  his  peculiarities,  bodily  and  mental,  had 
for  a  long  time  past  afforded  food  for  mystification. 
Of  this,  however,  I  was  not  aware,  although  in  the 
present  instance  I  saw  clearly  that  something  of  a 
whimsical  nature  was  upon  the  tapis  with  my  chum, 
and  that  Hermann  was  its  especial  object. 

As  the  former  proceeded  in  his  discourse,  or  rather 
monologue,  I  perceived  the  excitement  of  Hermann 
momently  increasing.  At  length  he  spoke,  offering 
some  objection  to  a  point  insisted  upon  by  R.,  and 
giving  his  reasons  in  detail.  To  these  the  Baron 
replied  at  length  (still  maintaining  his  exaggerated 
tone  of  sentiment),  and  concluding,  in  what  I  thought 
very  bad  taste,  with  a  sarcasm  and  a  sneer.  The 
hobby  of  Hermann  now  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth. 
This  I  could  discern  by  the  studied  hair-splitting  far¬ 
rago  of  his  rejoinder.  His  last  words  I  distinctly 
remember.  “  Your  opinions,  allow  me  to  say,  Baron 
Yon  Jung,  although  in  the  main  correct,  are  in  many 
nice  points  discreditable  to  yourself  and  to  the  uni¬ 
versity  of  which  you  are  a  member.  In  a  few  respects 
they  are  even  unworthy  of  serious  refutation.  I  would 
say  more  than  this,  sir,  were  it  not  for  the  fear  of 
giving  you  offence,  (here  the  speaker  smiled 
blandly,)  I  would  say,  sir,  that  your  opinions  are 
not  the  opinions  to  be  expected  from  a  gentleman.” 

As  Hermann  completed  this  equivocal  sentence,  all 
eyes  were  turned  upon  the  Baron.  He  became  very 
pale,  then  excessively  red,  then,  dropping  his  pocket- 


116 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE- 


handkerchief,  stooped  to  recover  it,  when  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  countenance  while  it  could  be  seen  by 
no  one  else  at  the  table.  It  was  radiant  with  the 
quizzical  expression  which  was  its  natural  character, 
but  which  I  had  never  seen  it  assume  except  when 
we  were  alone  together,  and  when  he  unbent  himself 
freely.  In  an  instant  afterwards  he  stood  erect,  con¬ 
fronting  Hermann,  and  so  total  an  alteration  of  coun¬ 
tenance  in  so  short  a  period  I  certainly  never  wit¬ 
nessed  before.  For  a  moment  I  even  fancied  that  I 
had  misconceived  him,  and  that  he  was  in  sober 
earnest.  He  appeared  to  be  stifling  with  passion, 
and  his  face  was  cadaverously  white.  For  a  short 
time  he  remained  silent  apparently  striving  to  master 
his  emotion.  Having  at  length  seemingly  succeeded, 
he  reached  a  decanter  which  stood  near  him,  saying, 
as  he  held  it  firmly  clenched  —  “  The  language  you 
have  thought  proper  to  employ,  Mynheer  Hermann, 
in  addressing  yourself  to  me,  is  objectionable  in  so 
many  particulars,  that  I  have  neither  temper  nor  time 
for  specification.  That  my  opinions,  however,  are 
not  the  opinions  to  be  expected  from  a  gentleman, 
is  an  observation  so  directly  offensive  as  to  allow 
me  but  one  line  of  conduct.  Some  courtesy,  never¬ 
theless,  is  due  to  the  presence  of  this  company,  and 
to  yourself,  at  the  present  moment,  as  my  guest. 
You  will  pardon  me,  therefore,  if,  upon  this  con¬ 
sideration,  I  deviate  slightly  from  the  general  usage 
among  gentlemen  in  similar  cases  of  personal  affront. 
You  will  forgive  me  for  the  moderate  tax  I  shall 
make  upon  your  imagination,  and  endeavor  to  con- 


VON  JUNG. 


117 


sider,  for  an  instant,  the  reflection  of  your  person  in 
yonder  mirror  as  the  living  Mynheer  Hermann  him¬ 
self.  This  being  done  there  will  be  no  difficulty 
whatever.  I  shall  discharge  this  decanter  of  wine  at 
your  image  in  yonder  mirror,  and  thus  fulfil  all  the 
spirit,  if  not  the  exact  letter,  of  resentment  for  your 
insult,  while  the  necessity  of  physical  violence  to  your 
real  person  will  be  obviated,”  With  these  words  he 
hurled  the  decanter  full  of  wine  furiously  against  the 
mirror  which  hung  directly  opposite  Hermann, 
striking  the  reflection  of  his  person  with  great  preci¬ 
sion,  and  of  course  shattering  the  glass  into  frag¬ 
ments.  The  whole  company  at  once  started  to  their 
feet,  and,  with  the  exception  of  myself  and  Ritzner, 
took  their  hats  for  departure.  As  Hermann  went 
out,  the  Baron  whispered  me  that  I  should  follow  him 
and  make  an  offer  of  my  services.  To  this  I  agreed, 
not  knowing  precisely  what  to  make  of  so  ridiculous 
a  piece  of  business. 

The  duellist  accepted  my  aid  with  his  usual  stiff', 
and  ultra-recherche  air,  and  taking  my  arm,  led  me 
to  his  apartment.  I  could  hardly  forbear  laughing 
in  his  face  while  he  proceeded  to  discuss  with  the 
profoundest  gravity  what  he  termed  “  the  refinedly 
peculiar  character  ”  of  the  insult  he  had  received. 
After  a  tiresome  harangue  in  his  ordinary  style,  he 
took  down  from  his  book-shelves  a  number  of  musty 
volumes  on  the  subject  of  the  duello,  and  entertained 
me  for  a  long  time  with  their  contents ;  reading 
aloud,  and  commenting  earnestly  as  he  read.  I  can 
just  remember  the  titles  of  some  of  the  works.  There 

VOL.  II. — 12 


118 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


was  the  “  Ordonnance  of  Philip  le  Bel  on  Single 
Combat;”  the  “  Theatre  of  Honor  ”  by  Favyn;  and 
a  treatise  “  On  the  Permission  of  Duels  ”  by  An- 
digiuer.  He  displayed,  also,  with  much  pomposity, 
Brantome’s  “  Memoirs  of  Duels,”  published  at 
Cologne,  in  16G6,  in  the  types  of  Elzevir — a  pre¬ 
cious  and  unique  vellum-paper  volume,  with  a  fine 
margin,  and  bound  by  Derome.  But  he  requested 
my  attention  particularly,  and  with  an  air  of  mys¬ 
terious  sagacity,  to  a  thick  octavo,  written  in  bar¬ 
barous  Latin  by  one  Hedelin  a  Frenchman,  and 
having  the  quaint  title,  “  Duelli  Lex  scripta,  et  non, 
aliterque .”  From  this  he  read  me  one  of  the  drollest 
chapters  in  the  world  concerning  “  Injuries  per  ap- 
plicationem,  per  constructionem,  et  per  se,”  about 
half  of  which,  he  averred,  was  strictly  applicable  to 
his  own  “  re  fined  ly  peculiar  ”  case,  although  not 
one  syllable  of  the  whole  matter  could  I  understand 
for  the  life  of  me.  Having  finished  the  chapter  he 
closed  the  book,  and  demanded  what  I  thought  ne¬ 
cessary  to  be  done.  I  replied  that  I  had  entire  con¬ 
fidence  in  his  superior  delicacy  of  feeling,  and  would 
abide  by  what  he  proposed.  With  this  answer  he 
seemed  flattered,  and  sat  down  to  write  a  note  to 
the  Baron.  It  ran  thus  : 

“  Sir, 

My  friend,  Mr.  P - ,  will  hand  you  this  note.  1 

find  it  incumbent  upon  me  to  request,  at  your  earliest 
convenience,  an  explanation  of  this  evening’s  oc¬ 
currences  at  your  chambers.  In  the  event  of  your 


VON  JUNG. 


119 


declining  this  request,  Mr.  P.  will  be  happy  to  arrange 
with  any  friend  whom  you  may  appoint,  the  steps 
preliminary  to  a  meeting. 

With  sentiments  of  perfect  respect, 

Your  most  humble  servant, 

Johan  Hermann. 

To  the  Baron  Ritzner  Von  Jung. 

August  18  th,  18 — .” 

Not  knowing  what  better  to  do,  I  called  upon 
Ritzner  with  this  epistle.  He  bowed  as  I  presented 
it,  and,  with  a  grave  countenance,  motioned  me  to 
a  seat.  He  then  said  that  he  was  aware  of  the  con¬ 
tents  of  the  note,  and  that  he  did  not  wish  to  peruse 
it.  With  this,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he  repeated 
the  letter  nearly  verbatim,  handing  me,  at  the  same 
time,  an  already  written  reply.  This,  which  ran 
as  follows,  I.  carried  to  Hermann  : 

“  Sir, 

Through  our  common  friend,  Mr.  P.,  I  have  re¬ 
ceived  your  note  of  this  evening.  Upon  due  reflec¬ 
tion  I  frankly  admit  the  propriety  of  the  explanation 
you  suggest.  This  being  admitted,  I  still  find  great 
difficulty,  (owing  to  the  refinedly  peculiar  nature  of 
our  disagreement,  and  of  the  personal  affront  offered 
on  my  part,)  in  so  wording  what  I  have  to  say  by 
way  of  apology,  as  to  meet  all  the  minute  exigencies, 
and,  as  it  were,  all  the  variable  shadows  of  the  case. 

I  have  great  reliance,  however,  on  that  extreme 
delicacy  of  discrimination,  in  matters  appertaining  to 


120 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  rules  of  etiquette,  for  which  you  have  been  so 
long  so  pre-eminently  distinguished.  With  perfect 
certainty,  therefore,  of  being  comprehended,  I  beg 
leave,  in  lieu  of  offering  any  sentiments  of  my  own, 
to  refer  you  to  the  opinions  of  the  Sieur  Hedelin,  as 
set  forth  in  the  ninth  paragraph  of  the  chapter  on 
‘  Injuries  per  applicationem,  per  constructionem,  et 
per  se”  in  his  “ Duelli  Lex  scripta,  et  non ,  aliterque .’ 
The  nicety  of  your  discernment  in  all  the  matters  here 
treated  of  will  be  sufficient,  I  am  assured,  to  con¬ 
vince  you  that  the  mere  circumstance  of  my  refer¬ 
ring  you  to  this  admirable  passage  ought  to  satisfy 
your  request,  as  a  man  of  honor,  for  explanation. 

With  sentiments  of  profound  respect, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

Von  Jung. 

The  Herr  Johan  Hermann. 

August  18  th,  18  — .” 

Hermann  commenced  the  perusal  of  this  epistle  with 
a  scow],  which,  however,  was  converted  into  a  smile 
of  the  most  ludicrous  self-complacency  as  he  came  to 
the  rigmarole  about  Injuries  per  applicationem,  per 
constructionem,  et  per  se.  Having  finished  reading, 
he  begged  me,  with  the  blandest  of  all  possible  airs, 
to  be  seated  while  he  made  reference  to  the  treatise 
in  question.  Turning  to  the  passage  specified,  he 
read  it  with  great  care  to  himself,  then  closed  the 
book,  and  desired  me,  in  my  character  of  confidential 
acquaintance,  to  express  to  the  Baron  Yon  Jung  his 
exalted  sense  of  his  chivalrous  behaviour,  and,  in  that 


VON  JUNG. 


121 


of  second,  to  assure  him  that  the  explanation  offered 
was  of  the  fullest,  the  most  honorable,  and  the  most 
unequivocally  satisfactory  nature.  Somewhat  amazed 
at  all  this,  I  made  my  retreat  to  the  Baron.  He 
seemed  to  receive  Hermann’s  amicable  letter  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and,  after  a  few  words  of  general 
conversation,  went  to  an  inner  room  and  brought  out 
the  everlasting  treatise  “  Duelli  Lex  scripta,  et  non, 
ciliterque.”  He  handed  me  the  volume  and  asked 
me  to  look  over  some  portion  of  it.  I  did  so,  but  to 
little  purpose,  not  being  able  to  gather  the  least  par¬ 
ticle  of  definite  meaning.  He  then  took  the  book 
himself,  and  read  me  a  chapter  aloud.  To  my  sur¬ 
prise  what  he  read  proved  to  be  a  most  horribly 
absurd  account  of  a  duel  between  two  baboons. 
He  now  explained  the  mystery,  showing  that  the 
volume,  as  it  appeared  primd facie,  was  written  upon 
the  plan  of  the  nonsense  verses  of  Du  Bartas  ;  that  is 
to  say,  the  language  was  ingeniously  framed  so  as  to 
present  to  the  ear  all  the  outward  signs  of  intelligi¬ 
bility,  and  even  of  profound  analysis,  while  in  fact 
not  a  shadow  of  meaning  existed,  except  in  insulated 
sentences.  The  key  to  the  whole  was  found  in  leaving 
out  every  second  and  third  word  alternately,  when 
there  appeared  a  series  of  ludicrous  quizzes  upon 
single  combat  as  practised  in  modern  times. 

The  Baron  afterwards  informed  me  that  he  had 
purposely  thrown  the  treatise  in  Hermann’s  way  two 
or  three  weeks  before  the  adventure,  and  that  he  was 
satisfied  from  the  general  tenor  of  his  conversation 
that  he  had  studied  it  with  the  deepest  attention,  and 
12* 


122 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


firmly  believed  it  to  be  a  work  of  unusual  profundity. 
Upon  this  hint  he  proceeded.  Hermann  would  have 
died  a  thousand  deaths  rather  than  acknowledge  his 
inability  to  understand  any  and  everything  in  the  uni¬ 
verse  that  had  ever  been  written  about  the  duello. 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


123 


LOSS  OF  BREATH 


O  breathe  not,  &c. 

Moore's  Melodies. 


The  most  notorious  ill-fortune  must,  in  the  end, 
yield  to  the  untiring  courage  of  philosophy  —  as  the 
most  stubborn  city  to  the  ceaseless  vigilance  of  an 
enemy.  Salmanezer,  as  we  have  it  in  the  holy 
writings,  lay  three  year  before  Samaria ;  yet  it  fell. 
Sardanapalus  —  see  Diodorus  —  maintained  himself 
seven  in  Nineveh;  but  to  no  purpose.  Troy  expired 
at  the  close  of  the  second  lustrum  ;  and  Azoth,  as 
Aristseus  declares  upon  his  honor  as  a  gentleman, 
opened  at  last  her  gates  to  Psammittic.us,  after 
having  barred  them  for  the  fifth  part  of  a  century, 

###**# 

“  Thou  wretch  !  —  thou  vixen  !  —  thou  shrew  !” 
—  said  I  to  my  wife  on  the  morning  after  our  wed¬ 
ding  —  “  thou  witch  !  —  thou  hag  !  —  thou  whipper- 
snapper  !  —  thou  sink  of  iniquity  !  —  thou  fiery-taced 
quintessence  of  all  that  is  abominable! — thou — 
thou  —  ”  here  standing  upon  tiptoe,  seizing  her  by 


124 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  throat,  and  placing  my  mouth  close  to  her  ear, 

I  was  preparing  to  launch  forth  a  newr  and  more 
decided  epithet  of  opprobrium,  which  should  not  fail, 
if  ejaculated,  to  convince  her  of  her  insignificance, 
when,  to  my  extreme  horror  and  astonishment,  I 
discovered  that  I  had  lost  my  hreath. 

The  phrases  “  I  am  out  of  breath,”  “  I  have  lost 
my  breath,”  &c.,  are  often  enough  repeated  in  com¬ 
mon  conversation  ;  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  me 
that  the  terrible  accident  of  which  I  speak  could 
bond  fide  and  actually  happen  !  Imagine  —  that  is  if 
you  have  a  fanciful  turn  —  imagine  I  say,  my  wonder 
—  my  consternation  —  my  despair  ! 

There  is  a  good  genius,  however,  which  has  never, 
at  any  time,  entirely  deserted  me.  In  my  most  un¬ 
governable  moods  I  still  retain  a  sense  of  propriety, 
et  le  chemin  des  passions  me  conduit  —  as  Rousseau 
says  it  did  him  —  a  la  philosophic  veritable. 

Although  I  could  not  at  first  precisely  ascertain 
to  what  degree  the  occurrence  had  affected  me,  I 
unhesitatingly  determined  to  conceal  at  all  events 
the  matter  from  my  wife  until  farther  experience 
should  discover  to  me  the  extent  of  this  my  unheard  of 
calamity.  Altering  my  countenance,  therefore,  in  a 
moment,  from  its  bepuffed  and  distorted  appearance, 
to  an  expression  of  arch  and  coquettish  benignity,  I 
gave  my  lady  a  pat  on  the  one  cheek,  and  a  kiss  on 
the  other,  and  without  saying  one  syllable,  (Furies ! 
I  could  not,)  left  her  astonished  at  my  drollery,  as  I 
pirouetted  out  of  the  room  in  a  Pas  de  Zephyr. 

Behold  me  then  safely  ensconced  in  my  private 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


125 


boudoir ,  a  fearful  instance  of  the  ill  consequences 
attending  upon  irascibility  —  alive  with  the  qualifica¬ 
tions  of  the  dead  —  dead  with  the  propensities  of  the 
living  —  an  anomaly  on  the  face  of  the  earth — being 
very  calm,  yet  breathless. 

Yes !  breathless.  I  am  serious  in  asserting  that 
my  breath  was  entirely  gone.  I  could  not  have 
stirred  with  it  a  feather  if  my  life  had  been  at  issue, 
or  sullied  even  the  delicacy  of  a  mirror.  Hard  fate! 
• — yet  there  was  some  alleviation  to  the  first  over¬ 
whelming  paroxysm  of  my  sorrow.  I  found  upon 
trial  that  the  powers  of  utterance  which,  upon  my 
inability  to  proceed  in  the  conversation  with  my 
wife,  I  then  concluded  to  be  totally  destroyed,  were 
in  fact  only  partially  impeded,  and  I  discovered  that 
had  I,  at  that  interesting  crisis,  dropped  my  voice  to 
a  singularly  deep  guttural,  I  might  still  have  con¬ 
tinued  to  her  the  communication  of  my  sentiments ; 
this  pitch  of  voice  (the  guttural)  depending,  I  find, 
not  upon  the  current  of  the  breath,  but  upon  a  certain 
spasmodic  action  of  the  muscles  of  the  throat. 

Throwing  myself  upon  a  chair,  I  remained  for 
some  time  absorbed  in  meditation.  My  reflections, 
be  sure,  were  of  no  consolatory  kind.  A  thousand 
vague  and  lachrymatory  fancies  took  possession  of 
my  soul  —  and  even  the  phantom  suicide  flitted  across 
my  brain  ;  but  it  is  a  trait  in  the  perversity  of  human 
nature  to  reject  the  obvious  and  the  ready,  for  the 
far-distant  and  equivocal.  Thus  I  shuddered  at  self- 
murder  as  the  most  decided  of  atrocities,  while  the 
tabby  cat  purred  strenuously  upon  the  rug,  and  the 


126 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


very  water-dog  wheezed  assiduously  under  the  table, 
each  taking  to  itself  much  merit  for  the  strength  of 
its  lungs,  and  all  obviously  done  in  derision  of  my 
own  pulmonary  incapacity. 

Oppressed  with  a  tumult  of  vague  hopes  and  fears, 
I  at  length  heard  the  footstep  of  my  wife  descend¬ 
ing  the  staircase.  Being  now  assured  of  her  ab¬ 
sence,  I  returned  with  a  palpitating  heart  to  the 
scene  of  my  disaster. 

Carefully  locking  the  door  on  the  inside,  I  com¬ 
menced  a  vigorous  search.  It  was  possible,  I 
thought,  that  concealed  in  some  obscure  corner,  or 
lurking  in  some  closet  or  drawer,  might  be  found  the 
lost  object  of  my  inquiry.  It  might  have  a  vapory 
—  it  might  even  have  a  tangible  form.  Most  philo¬ 
sophers,  upon  many  points  of  philosophy,  are  still 
very  unphilosophical.  William  Godwin,  however, 
says  in  his  “  Mandeville,”  that  “  invisible  things  are 
the  only  realities.”  This,  all  will  allow,  is  a  case 
in  point.  I  would  have  the  judicious  reader  pause 
before  accusing  such  asseverations  of  an  undue 
quantum  of  absurdity.  Anaxagoras  —  it  will  be  re¬ 
membered —  maintained  that  snow  is  black.  This 
I  have  since  found  to  be  the  case. 

Long  and  earnestly  did  I  continue  the  investiga¬ 
tion  :  but  the  contemptible  reward  of  my  industry 
and  perseverance  proved  to  be  only  a  set  of  false 
teeth,  two  pair  of  hips,  an  eye,  and  a  bundle  of  billets- 
doux  from  Mr.  Windenough  to  my  wife.  I  might 
as  well  here  observe  that  this  confirmation  of  my 
lady’s  partiality  for  Mr.  W.  occasioned  me  little 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


127 


uneasiness.  That  Mrs.  Lack-o’Breath  shou’d  admire 
any  thing  so  dissimilar  to  myself  was  a  natural  ana 
necessary  evil.  I  am,  it  is  well  known,  of  a  robust 
and  corpulent  appearance,  and  at  the  same  time  some¬ 
what  diminutive  in  stature.  What  wonder  then  that 
the  lath-like  tenuity  of  my  acquaintance,  and  his 
altitude  which  has  grown  into  a  proverb,  should  have 
met  with  all  due  estimation  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Lack-o’Breath  ?  It  is  by  logic  similar  to  this  that 
true  philosophy  is  enabled  to  set  misfortune  at  de¬ 
fiance.  But  to  return. 

My  exertions,  as  I  have  before  said,  proved  fruit¬ 
less.  Closet  after  closet  —  drawer  after  drawer  — 
corner  after  corner  —  were  scrutinized  to  no  pur¬ 
pose.  At  one  time,  however,  I  thought  myself  sure 
of  my  prize,  having,  in  rummaging  a  dressing-case, 
accidentally  demolished  a  bottle  (I  had  a  remarkably 
sweet  breath)  of  Hewitt’s  “  Seraphic  and  Highly- 
Scented  Extract  of  Heaven  or  Oil  of  Archangels” 
—  which,  as  an  agreeable  perfume,  I  here  take  the 
liberty  of  recommending. 

With  a  heavy  heart  I  returned  to  my  boudoir  — 
thereto  ponder  upon  some  method  of  eluding  my  wife’s 
penetration,  until  I  could  make  arrangements  prior 
to  my  leaving  the  country,  for  to  this  I  had  already 
made  up  my  mind.  In  a  foreign  climate,  being  un¬ 
known,  I  might,  with  some  probability  of  success,  en¬ 
deavor  to  conceal  my  unhappy  calamity  —  a  calamity 
calculated,  even  more  than  beggary,  to  estrange  the 
affections  of  the  multitude,  and  to  draw  down  upon 
the  wretch  the  well-merited  indignation  of  the  virtuous 


128 


GROTESQUE  AXD  ARABESQUE. 


and  the  happy.  I  was  not  long  in  hesitation.  Be¬ 
ing  naturally  quick,  I  committed  to  memory  the 

entire  tragedies  of - ,  and - .  I  had  the  good 

fortune  to  recollect  that  in  the  accentuation  of  these 
dramas,  or  at  least  of  such  portion  of  them  as  is 
allotted  to  their  heroes,  the  tones  of  voice  in  which  I 
found  myself  deficient  were  altogether  unnecessary, 
and  that  the  deep  guttural  was  expected  to  reign 
monotonously  throughout. 

I  practised  for  some  time  by  the  borders  of  a  well- 
frequented  marsh  —  herein,  however,  having  no  re¬ 
ference  to  a  similar  proceeding  of  Demosthenes,  but 
from  a  design  peculiarly  and  conscientiously  my 
own.  Thus  armed  at  all  points,  I  determined  to 
make  my  wife  believe  that  I  was  suddenly  smitten 
with  a  passion  for  the  stage.  In  this  I  succeeded  to 
a  miracle  ;  and  to  every  question  or  suggestion  found 
myself  at  liberty  to  reply  in  my  most  frog-like  and 
sepulchral  tones  with  some  passage  from  the  tragedies 

—  any  portion  of  which,  as  I  soon  took  great  pleasure 
in  observing,  would  apply  equally  well  to  any  par¬ 
ticular  subjecf.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however^ 
that  in  the  delivery  of  such  passages  I  was  found  at 
all  deficient  in  the  looking  asquint  —  the  showing  my 

'  teeth  —  the  working  my  knees  —  the  shuffling  my  feet 

—  or  in  any  of  those  unmentionable  graces  which 
are  now  justly  considered  the  characteristics  of  a 
popular  performer.  To  be  sure  they  spoke  of  con¬ 
fining  me  in  a  straight-jacket  —  but,  good  God  !  they 
never  suspected  me  of  having  lost  my  breath. 

Having  at  length  put  my  affairs  in  order,  I  took 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


129 


my  seat  very  early  one  morning  in  the  mail  stage 
for - ,  giving  it  to  be  understood  among  my  ac¬ 

quaintances  that  business  of  the  last  importance 
required  my  immediate  personal  attendance  in  that 
city. 

The  coach  was  crammed  to  repletion — but  in  the 
uncertain  twilight  the  features  of  my  companions 
could  not  be  distinguished.  Without  making  any 
effectual  resistance  I  suffered  myself  to  be  placed 
between  two  gentlemen  of  colossal  dimensions  ;  while 
a  third,  of  a  size  larger,  requesting  pardon  for  the 
liberty  he  was  about  to  take,  threw  himself  upon  my 
body  at  full  length,  and  falling  asleep  in  an  instant, 
drowmed  all  my  guttural  ejaculations  for  relief,  in  a 
snore  which  would  have  put  to  the  blush  the  roar¬ 
ings  of  a  Phalarian  bull.  Happily  the  state  of  my 
respiratory  faculties  rendered  suffocation  an  accident 
entirely  out  of  the  question. 

As,  however,  the  day  broke  more  distinctly  in  our 
approach  to  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  my  tormentor 
arising  and  adjusting  his  shirt-collar,  thanked  me  in 
a  very  friendly  manner  for  my  civility.  Seeing  that 
I  remained  motionless,  (all  my  limbs  were  dislocated, 
and  my  head  twisted  on  one  side,)  his  apprehensions 
began  to  be  excited  ;  and,  arousing  the  rest  of  the 
passengers,  he  communicated,  in  a  very  decided 
manner,  his  opinion  that  a  dead  man  had  been 
palmed  upon  them  during  the  night  for  a  living  and 
responsible  fellow-traveller  —  here  giving  me  a  thump 
on  the  right  eye,  by  way  of  evidencing  the  truth  of 
his  suggestion. 

VOL.  ii.  — 13 


130 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Thereupon  all,  one  after  another,  (there  were  nine 
in  company)  believed  it  their  duty  to  pull  me  by  the 
ear.  A  young  practising  physician,  too,  having  ap¬ 
plied  a  pocket-mirror  to  my  mouth,  and  found  me 
without  breath,  the  assertion  of  my  persecutor  was 
pronounced  a  true  bill ;  and  the  whole  party  expressed 
their  determination  to  endure  tamely  no  such  im¬ 
positions  for  the  future,  and  to  proceed  no  farther 
with  any  such  carcases  for  the  present. 

I  was  here  accordingly  throwm  out  at  the  sign  of 
the  “  Crow,”  (by  which  tavern  the  coach  happened 
to  be  passing)  without  meeting  with  any  farther  ac¬ 
cident  than  the  breaking  of  both  my  arms  under  the 
left  hind-wheel  of  the  vehicle.  I  must  besides  do  the 
driver  the  justice  to  state  that  he  did  not  forget  to 
throw  after  me  the  largest  of  my  trunks,  which,  un¬ 
fortunately  falling  on  my  head,  fractured  my  skull 
in  a  manner  at  once  interesting  and  extraordinary. 

The  landlord  of  the  “  Crow,”  who  is  a  hospitable 
man,  finding  that  my  trunk  contained  sufficient  to 
indemnify  him  for  any  little  trouble  he  might  take  in 
my  behalf,  sent  forthwith  for  a  surgeon  of  his  ac¬ 
quaintance,  and  delivered  me  to  his  care  with  a  bill 
and  receipt  for  five-and-twenty  dollars. 

The  purchaser  took  me  to  his  apartments  and 
commenced  operations  immediately.  Having,  how¬ 
ever,  cut  off  my  ears,  he  discovered  signs  of  anima¬ 
tion.  He  now  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  for  a  neighboring 
apothecary  with  whom  to  consult  in  the  emergency. 
In  case,  however,  of  his  suspicions  with  regard  to 
my  existence  proving  ultimately  correct,  he,  in  the 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


131 


meantime,  made  an  incision  in  my  stomach,  and  re¬ 
moved  several  of  my  viscera  for  private  dissection. 

The  apothecary  had  an  idea  that  I  was  actually 
dead.  This  idea  I  endeavored  to  confute,  kicking 
and  plunging  with  all  my  might,  and  making  the 
most  furious  contortions  —  for  the  operations  of  the 
surgeon  had,  in  a  measure,  restored  me  to  the  pos¬ 
session  of  my  faculties.  All,  however,  was  attributed 
to  the  effects  of  a  new  galvanic  battery,  wherewith 
the  apothecary,  who  is  really  a  man  of  information, 
performed  several  curious  experiments,  in  which, 
from  my  personal  share  in  their  fulfilment,  I  could 
not  help  feeling  deeply  interested.  It  was  a  source 
of  mortification  to  me  nevertheless,  that  although  I 
made  several  attempts  at  conversation,  my  powers 
of  speech  were  so  entirely  in  abeyance,  that  1  could 
not  even  open  my  mouth  ;  much  less  then  make  re¬ 
ply  to  some  ingenious  but  fanciful  theories  of  which, 
under  other  circumstances,  my  minute  acquaintance 
with  the  Hippocratian  pathology  would  have  af¬ 
forded  me  a  ready  confutation. 

Not  being  able  to  arrive  at  a  conclusion,  the  prac¬ 
titioners  remanded  me  for  further  examination.  I 
was  taken  up  into  a  garret ;  and  the  surgeon’s  lady 
having  accommodated  me  with  drawers  and  stock¬ 
ings,  the  surgeon  himself  fastened  my  hands,  and 
tied  up  my  jaw*s  with  a  pocket  handkerchief — then 
bolted  the  door  on  the  outside  as  he  hurried  to  his 
dinner,  leaving  me  alone  to  silence  and  to  medita¬ 
tion. 

I  now  discovered  to  my  extreme  delight  that  I 


132 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


could  have  spoken  had  not  my  mouth  been  tied  up 
by  the  pocket-handkerchief.  Consoling  myself  with 
this  reflection,  I  was  mentally  repeating  some  pas¬ 
sages  of  the - ,  as  is  my  custom  before  resigning 

myself  to  sleep,  when  two  cats,  of  a  greedy  and 
vituperative  turn,  entering  at  a  hole  in  the  wall,  leaped 
up  with  a  flourish  h  la  Catalani,  and  alighting  op¬ 
posite  one  another  on  my  visage,  betook  themselves 
to  unseemly  and  indecorous  contention  for  the  paltry 
consideration  of  my  nose. 

But,  as  the  loss  of  his  ears  proved  the  means  of 
elevating  to  the  throne  of  Cyrus,  the  Magian  or 
Mige-Gush  of  Persia,  and  as  the  cutting  off  his  nose 
gave  Zopyrus  possession  of  Babylon,  so  the  loss  of  a 
few  ounces  of  my  countenance  proved  the  salvation 
of  my  body.  Aroused  by  the  pain,  and  burning  with 
indignation,  I  burst,  at  a  single  effort,  the  fastenings 
and  the  bandage.  Stalking  across  the  room  I  cast 
a  glance  of  contempt  at  the  belligerents,  and  throw¬ 
ing  open  the  sash  to  their  extreme  horror  and  dis¬ 
appointment,  precipitated  myself —  very  dexterously 
—  from  the  window. 

The  mail-robber  W - ,  to  whom  I  bore  a 

singular  resemblance,  was  at  this  moment  passing 
from  the  city  jail  to  the  scaffold  erected  for  his  exe¬ 
cution  in  the  suburbs.  His  extreme  infirmity,  and 
long-continued  ill  health,  had  obtained  him  the  privi¬ 
lege  of  remaining  unmanacled  ;  and  habited  in  his 
gallows  costume  —  a  dress  very  similar  to  my  own 
- —  he  lay  at  full  length  in  the  bottom  of  the  hang¬ 
man’s  cart  (which  happened  to  be  under  the  windows 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


13-3 


of  the  surgeon  at  the  moment  of  my  precipitation) 
without  any  other  guard  than  the  driver  who  was 
asleep,  and  two  recruits  of  the  sixth  infantry,  who 
were  drunk. 

As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  I  alit  upon  my  feet  within 

the  vehicle.  W - ,  who  was  an  acute  fellow, 

perceived  his  opportunity.  Leaping  up  immediately, 
he  bolted  out  behind,  and  turning  down  an  alley,  was 
out  of  sight  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  recruits, 
aroused  by  the  bustle,  could  not  exactly  comprehend 
the  merits  of  the  transaction.  Seeing,  however,  a 
man,  the  precise  counterpart  of  the  felon,  standing 
upright  in  the  cart  before  their  eyes,  they  were  of 

opinion  that  the  rascal  (meaning  W - )  was 

after  making  his  escape,  (so  they  expressed  them¬ 
selves,)  and,  having  communicated  this  opinion  to  one 
another,  they  took  each  a  dram  and  then  knocked 
me  down  with  the  butt-ends  of  their  muskets. 

It  was  not  long  ere  we  arrived  at  the  place  of 
destination.  Of  course  nothing  could  be  said  in  my 
defence.  Hanging  was  my  inevitable  fate.  I  re¬ 
signed  myself  thereto  with  a  feeling  half  stupid,  half 
acrimonious.  Being  little  of  a  cynic,  I  had  all  the 
sentiments  of  a  dog.  The  hangman,  however,  ad¬ 
justed  the  noose  about  my  neck.  The  drop  fell 
My  convulsions  were  said  to  be  extraordinary. 
Several  gentlemen  swooned,  and  some  ladies  were 
carried  home  in  hysterics.  Pinxit,  too,  availed  him¬ 
self  of  the  opportunity  to  retouch,  from  a  sketch 
taken  upon  the  spot,  his  admirable  painting  of  the 
“  Marsyas  flayed  alive.” 

13* 


134 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


I  will  endeavor  to  depict  my  sensations  upon  the 
gallows.  To  write  upon  such  a  theme  it  is  necessary 
to  have  been  hanged.  Every  author  should  confine 
himself  to  matters  of  experience.  Thus  Mark  Antony 
wrote  a  treatise  upon  drunkenness. 

Die  I  certainly  did  not.  The  sudden  jerk  given  to 
my  neck  upon  the  falling  of  the  drop,  merely  proved 
a  corrective  to  the  unfortunate  twist  afforded  me  by 
the  gentleman  in  the  coach.  Although  my  body  cer¬ 
tainly  was,  I  had,  alas  !  no  breath  to  be  suspended  ; 
and  but  for  the  chafing  of  the  rope,  the  pressure  of 
the  knot  under  my  ear,  and  the  rapid  determination 
of  blood  to  the  brain,  I  should,  I  dare  say,  have  ex¬ 
perienced  very  little  inconvenience. 

The  latter  feeling,  however,  grew  momently 
more  painful.  I  heard  my  heart  beating  with  vio¬ 
lence  —  the  veins  in  my  hands  and  wrists  swelled 
nearly  to  bursting  —  my  temples  throbbed  tempestu¬ 
ously —  and  I  felt  that  my  eyes  were  starting  from 
their  sockets.  Yet  when  I  say  that  in  spite  of  all 
this  my  sensations  were  not  absolutely  intolerable,  I 
will  not  be  believed. 

There  were  noises  in  my  ears  —  first  like  the 
tolling  of  huge  bells  —  then  like  the  beating  of  a  thou¬ 
sand  drums  —  then,  lastly,  like  the  low,  sullen  mur¬ 
murs  of  the  sea.  But  these  noises  were  very  far  from 
disagreeable. 

Although,  too,  the  powers  of  my  mind  were  con¬ 
fused  and  distorted,  yet  I  was —  strange  to  say  !  — 
well  aware  of  such  confusion  and  distortion.  I  could, 
with  unerring  promptitude  determine  at  will  in  what 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


135 


particulars  my  sensations  were  correct  —  and  in 
what  particulars  1  wandered  from  the  path.  I  could 
even  feel  with  accuracy  how  far — to  wliat  very 
point,  such  wanderings  had  misguided  me,  but  still 
without  the  power  of  correcting  my  deviations.  I 
took  besides,  at  the  same  time,  a  wild  delight  in  ana¬ 
lyzing  my  conceptions.* 

Memory,  which,  of  all  other  faculties,  should  have 
first  taken  its  departure,  seemed  on  the  contrary  to 
have  been  endowed  with  quadrupled  power.  Each 
incident  of  my  past  life  flitted  before  me  like  a  shadow. 
There  was  not  a  brick  in  the  building  where  I  was 
born — not  a  dog-leaf  in  the  primer  I  had  thumbed 
over  when  a  child  —  not  a  tree  in  the  forest  where  I 
hunted  when  a  boy  —  not  a  street  in  the  cities  I  had 
traversed  when  a  man  — that  I  did  not  at  that  time 
most  palpably  behold.  I  could  repeat  to  myself  entire 
lines,  passages,  chapters,  books,  from  the  studies 
of  my  earlier  days;  and  while,  I  dare  say,  the 
crowd  around  me  were  blind  with  horror,  or 
aghast  with  awe,  I  was  alternately  with  Aeschylus,  a 
demi-god,  or  with  Aristophanes,  a  frog. 

*  ####### 

A  dreamy  delight  now  took  hold  upon  my  spirit, 
and  I  imagined  that  I  had  been  eating  opium,  or 
feasting  upon  the  hashish  of  the  old  assassins.  But 

*  The  general  reader  will,  I  dare  say,  recognise,  in  these  sen¬ 
sations  of  Mr.  Lack-o’Breath,  much  of  the  absurd  metaphysician- 
ism  of  the  redoubted  Schelling. 


136 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


glimpses  of  pure,  unadulterated  reason  —  during 
which  I  was  still  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  of  finally  es¬ 
caping  that  death  which  hovered  like  a  vulture  above 
me  —  were  still  caught  occasionally  by  my  soul. 

By  some  unusual  pressure  of  the  rope  against  my 
face,  a  portion  of  the  cap  was  chafed  away,  and  I 
found  to  my  astonishment  that  my  powers  of  vision 
were  not  altogether  destroyed.  A  sea  of  waving 
heads  rolled  around  me.  In  the  intensity  of  my  de¬ 
light  I  eyed  them  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  com¬ 
miseration,  and  blessed,  as  I  looked  upon  the  haggard 
assembly,  the  superior  benignity  of  my  proper  stars. 

I  now  reasoned,  rapidly  I  believe  —  profoundly  I 
am  sure  —  upon  principles  of  common  law  —  pro¬ 
priety  of  that  law  especially,  for  which  I  hung  —  ab¬ 
surdities  in  political  economy  which  till  then  I  had 
never  been  able  to  acknowledge  —  dogmas  in  the  old 
Aristotelians  now  generally  denied,  but  not  the  less 
intrinsically  true  • —  detestable  school  formulae  in 
Bourdon,  in  Gamier,  in  Lacroix — synonymes  in 
Crabbe  —  lunar-lunatic  theories  in  St.  Pierre  —  falsi¬ 
ties  in  the  Pelham  novels  —  beauties  in  Vivian  Grey 
—  more  than  beauties  in  Vivian  Grey  —  profundity 
in  Vivian  Grey  —  genius  in  Vivian  Grey  —  every¬ 
thing  in  Vivian  Grey. 

Then  came  like  a  flood,  Coleridge,  Kant,  Fitche, 
and  Pantheism  —  then  like  a  deluge,  the  Academie, 
Pergola,  La  Scala,  San  Carlo,  Paul,  Albert,  Noblet, 
Ilonzi  Vestris,  Fanny  Bias,  and  Taglioni. 

******** 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


137 


A  rapid  change  was  now  taking  place  in  my  sen¬ 
sations.  The  last  shadows  of  connection  flitted  away 
from  my  meditations.  A  storm  —  a  tempest  of  ideas, 
vast,  novel,  and  soul-stirring,  bore  my  spirit  like  a 
feather  afar  off.  Confusion  crowded  upon  confusion 
like  a  wave  upon  a  wave.  In  a  very  short  time 
Schelling  himself  would  have  been  satisfied  with  my 
entire  loss  of  self-identity.  The  crowd  became  a 
mass  of  mere  abstraction. 

About  this  period  I  became  aware  of  a  heavy  fall 
and  shock  —  but,  although  the  concussion  jarred 
throughout  my  frame,  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
its  having  been  sustained  in  my  own  proper  person ; 
and  thought  of  it  as  of  an  incident  peculiar  to  some 
other  existence  —  an  idiosyncrasy  belonging  to  some 
other  Ens. 

It  was  at  this  moment  —  as  I  afterwards  discover¬ 
ed —  that  having  been  suspended  for  the  full  term  of 
execution,  it  was  thought  proper  to  remove  my  body 
from  the  gallows  —  this  the  more  especially  as  the 
real  culprit  had  now  been  retaken  and  recognised. 

Much  sympathy  was  now  exercised  in  my  behalf 
—  and  as  no  one  in  the  city  appeared  to  identify  my 
body,  it  was  ordered  that  I  should  be  interred  in  the 
public  sepulchre  early  in  the  following  morning.  I 
lay,  in  the  meantime,  without  sign  of  life  —  al¬ 
though  from  the  moment,  I  suppose,  when  the  rope 
was  loosened  from  my  neck,  a  dim  consciousness  of 
my  situation  oppressed  me  like  the  night-mare. 

I  wTas  laid  out  in  a  chamber  sufficiently  small,  and 
very  much  encumbered  with  furniture  —  yet  to  me  it 


138 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


appeared  of  a  size  to  contain  the  universe.  I  have 
never  before  or  since,  in  body  or  in  mind,  suffered 
half  so  much  agony  as  from  that  single  idea.  Strange  ! 
that  the  simple  conception  of  abstract  magnitude  — 
of  infinity  —  should  have  been  accompanied  with 
pain.  Yet  so  it  was.  “  With  how  vast  a  difference,” 
said  I,  “  in  life  and  in  death  —  in  time  and  in  eternity 
—  here  and  hereafter,  shall  our  merest  sensations  be 
imbodied !” 

The  day  died  away,  and  I  was  aware  that  it  was 
growing  dark  —  yet  the  same  terrible  conceit  still 
overwhelmed  me.  Nor  was  it  confined  to  the  bounda¬ 
ries  of  the  apartment — it  extended,  although  in  a 
more  definite  manner,  to  all  objects,  and,  perhaps  I 
will  not  be  understood  in  saying  that  it  extended  also 
to  all  sentiments.  My  fingers  as  they  lay  cold, 
clammy,  stiff,  and  pressing  helplessly  one  against 
another,  were,  in  my  imagination,  swelled  to  a  size 
according  with  the  proportions  of  the  Antoeus.  Every 
portion  of  my  frame  betook  of  their  enormity.  The 
pieces  of  money  —  I  well  remember  —  which  being 
placed  upon  my  eyelids,  failed  to  keep  them  effectually 
closed,  seemed  huge,  interminable  chariot-wheels  of 
the  Olympia,  or  of  the  Sun. 

Yet  it  is  very  singular  that  I  experienced  no  sense 
of  weight  —  of  gravity.  On  the  contrary  I  was  put 
to  much  inconvenience  by  that  buoyancy  —  that 
tantalizing  difficulty  of  keeping  down,  which  is  felt 
by  the  swdmmer  in  deep  water.  Amid  the  tumult  of 
my  terrors  I  laughed  with  a  hearty  internal  laugh  to 
think  what  incongruity  there  would  be  —  could  I  arise 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


139 


and  walk  —  between  the  elasticity  of  my  motion,  and 
the  mountain  of  my  form. 

######## 

The  night  came  —  and  with  it  a  new  crowd  of 
horrors.  The  consciousness  of  my  approaching  in¬ 
terment  began  to  assume  new  distinctness,  and  con¬ 
sistency  —  yet  never  for  one  moment  did  I  imagine 
that  I  was  not  actually  dead. 

“  This  then  ”  —  I  mentally  ejaculated  —  “  this 
darkness  which  is  palpable,  and  oppresses  with  a 
sense  of  suffocation  —  this  —  this  —  is  indeed  death. 
This  is  death —  this  is  death  the  terrible  —  death  the 
holy.  This  is  the  death  undergone  by  Regulus  — 
and  equally  by  Seneca.  Thus  —  thus,  too,  shall  I 
always  remain  —  always  —  always  remain.  Reason 
is  folly,  and  philosophy  a  lie.  No  one  will  know  my 
sensations,  my  horror — my  despair.  Yet  will  men 
still  persist  in  reasoning,  and  philosophizing,  and 
making  themselves  fools.  There  is,  I  find,  no  here¬ 
after  but  this.  This  —  this  —  this  —  is  the  only 
eternity  !  —  and  what,  O  Baalzebub  !  —  what  an 
eternity!  —  to  lie  in  this  vast — this  awful  void  —  a 
hideous,  vague,  and  unmeaning  anomaly  —  motion¬ 
less,  yet  wishing  for  motion  —  powerless,  yet  long¬ 
ing  for  power — forever,  forever,  and  forever!” 

But  the  morning  broke  at  length  —  and  with  its 
misty  and  gloomy  dawrn  arrived  in  triple  horror  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  grave.  Then  —  and  not  till 
then  —  was  I  fully  sensible  of  the  fearful  fate  hang- 


140 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


ing  over  me.  The  phantasms  of  the  night  had  faded 
away  with  its  shadows,  and  the  actual  terrors  of  the 
yawning  tomb  left  me  no  heart  for  the  bug-bear 
speculations  of  transcendentalism. 

I  have  before  mentioned  that  my  eyes  were  but 
imperfectly  closed  —  yet  as  I  could  not  move  them 
in  any  degree,  those  objects  alone  which  crossed  the 
direct  line  of  vision  were  within  the  sphere  of  my 
comprehension.  But  across  that  line  of  vision  spectral 
and  stealthy  figures  were  continually  flitting,  like  the 
ghosts  of  Banquo.  They  were  making  hurried  pre¬ 
parations  for  my  interment.  First  came  the  coffin 
which  they  placed  quietly  by  my  side.  Then  the  un¬ 
dertaker  with  attendants  and  a  screw-driver.  Then 
a  stout  man  w'hom  I  could  distinctly  see  and  who 
took  hold  of  my  feet  —  while  one  whom  I  could  only 
feel  lifted  me  by  the  head  and  shoulders.  Together 
they  placed  me  in  the  coffin,  and  drawing  the  shroud 
up  over  my  face  proceeded  to  fasten  down  the  lid. 
One  of  the  screws,  missing  its  proper  direction,  was 
screwed  by  the  carelessness  of  the  undertaker  deep 
—  deep — down  into  my  shoulder.  A  convulsive 
shudder  ran  throughout  my  frame.  With  what 
horror,  with  what  sickening  of  heart  did  I  reflect 
that  one  minute  sooner  a  similar  manifestation  of 
life,  would,  in  all  probability,  have  prevented  my 
inhumation.  But  alas  !  it  was  now  too  late,  and 
hope  died  away  within  my  bosom  as  I  felt  myself 
lifted  upon  the  shoulders  of  men  —  carried  down  the 
stairway —  and  thrust  within  the  hearse. 

During  the  brief  passage  to  the  cemetery  my  sen- 


LOSS  OP  BREATH. 


141 


sations,  which  for  some  time  had  been  lethargic  and 
dull,  assumed,  all  at  once,  a  degree  of  intense  and 
unnatural  vivacity  for  which  I  can  in  no  manner 
account.  I  could  distinctly  hear  the  restling  of  the 
plumes  —  the  whispers  of  the  attendants  —  the  solemn 
breathings  of  the  horses  of  death.  Confined  as  I 
was  in  that  narrow  and  strict  embrace,  I  could  feel 
the  quicker  or  slower  movement  of  the  procession 

—  the  restlessness  of  the  driver  —  the  windings  of 
the  road  as  it  led  us  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  I 
could  distinguish  the  peculiar  odor  of  the  coffin  — 
the  sharp  acid  smell  of  the  steel  screws.  I  could  see 
the  texture  of  the  shroud  as  it  lay  close  against  my 
face  ;  and  was  even  conscious  of  the  rapid  variations 
in  light  and  shade  which  the  flapping  to  and  fro  of 
the  sable  hangings  occasioned  within  the  body  of 
the  vehicle. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  we  arrived  at  the  place 
of  sepulture,  and  I  felt  myself  deposited  within  the 
tomb.  The  entrance  was  secured — they  departed 

—  and  I  w7as  left  alone.  A  line  of  Marston’s  “  Mal¬ 
content,” 

“  Death’s  a  good  fellow  and  keeps  open  house,” 

struck  me  at  that  moment  as  a  palpable  lie.  Sullenly 
I  lay  at  length,  the  quick  among  the  dead  —  Ana- 
char  sis  inter  Scythas. 

From  what  I  overheard  early  in  the  morning,  I 
was  led  to  believe  that  the  occasions  when  the  vault 
was  made  use  of  were  of  very  rare  occurrence.  It 

vol.  ii. — 14 


142 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


was  probable  that  many  months  might  elapse  before 
the  doors  of  the  tomb  would  be  again  unbarred  — 
and  even  should  I  survive  until  that  period,  what 
means  could  I  have  more  than  at  present,  of  making 
known  my  situation  or  of  escaping  from  the  coffin  ? 
I  resigned  myself,  therefore,  with  much  tranquillity 
to  my  fate,  and  fell,  after  many  hours,  into  a  deep 
and  deathlike  sleep. 

How  long  I  remained  thus  is  to  me  a  mystery. 
When  I  awoke  my  limbs  were  no  longer  cramped 
with  the  cramp  of  death —  I  was  no  longer  without 
the  power  of  motion.  A  very  slight  exertion  was 
sufficient  to  force  off  the  lid  of  my  prison  —  for  the 
dampness  of  the  atmosphere  had  already  occasioned 
decay  in  the  wood-work  around  the  screws. 

My  steps  as  I  groped  around  the  sides  of  my  habi¬ 
tation  were,  however,  feeble  and  uncertain,  and  I 
felt  all  the  gnawings  of  hunger  with  the  pains  of  in¬ 
tolerable  thirst.  Yet,  as  time  passed  away,  it  is 
strange  that  I  experienced  little  uneasiness  from  these 
scourges  of  the  earth,  in  comparisons  with  the  more 
terrible  visitations  of  the  fiend  Ennui.  Stranger 
still  were  the  resources  by  which  I  endeavored  to 
banish  him  from  my  presence. 

The  sepulchre  w'as  large  and  subdivided  into  many 
compartments,  and  I  busied  myself  in  examining  the 
peculiarities  of  their  construction.  I  determined  the 
length  and  breadth  of  my  abode.  I  counted  and 
recounted  the  stones  of  the  masonry.  But  there 
were  other  methods  by  which  I  endeavored  to 
lighten  the  tedium  of  my  hours.  Feeling  my  way 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


143 


among  the  numerous  coffins  ranged  in  order  around, 
I  lifted  them  down,  one  by  one,  and  breaking  open 
their  lids,  busied  myself  in  speculations  about  the 
mortality  within. 

“This,”  I  reflected,  tumbling  over  a  carcass, puffy, 
bloated,  and  rotund  —  “  this  has  been,  no  doubt,  in 
every  sense  of  the  word,  an  unhappy  —  an  un¬ 
fortunate  man.  It  has  been  his  terrible  lot  not  to 
walk,  but  to  waddle  —  to  pass  through  life  not  like 
a  human  being,  but  like  an  elephant  —  not  like  a 
man,  but  like  a  rhinoceros. 

“  His  attempts  at  getting  on  have  been  mere  abor¬ 
tions —  and  his  circumgyratory  proceedings  a  pal¬ 
pable  failure.  Taking  a  step  forward,  it  has  been 
his  misfortune  to  take  two  towards  the  right,  and 
three  towards  the  left.  His  studies  have  been  con¬ 
fined  to  the  poetry  of  Crabbe.  He  can  have  had  no 
idea  of  the  wonders  of  a  pirouette.  To  him  a  pas 
de  jJapillon  has  been  an  abstract  conception.  He 
has  never  ascended  the  summit  of  a  hill.  He  has 
never  viewed  from  any  steeple  the  glories  of  a  me¬ 
tropolis.  Heat  has  been  his  mortal  enemy.  In  the 
dog-days  his  days  have  been  the  days  of  a  dog. 
Therein,  he  has  dreamed  of  flames  and  suffocation 
—  of  mountains  upon  mountains  —  of  Pelion  upon 
Ossa.  He  was  short  of  breath  —  to  say  all  in  a 
word  —  he  was  short  of  breath.  He  thought  it  ex¬ 
travagant  to  play  upon  wind  instruments.  He  was 
the  inventor  of  self-moving  fans  —  wind-sails  —  and 
ventilators.  He  patronized  Du  Pont  the  bellows- 
maker  —  and  died  miserably  in  attempting  to  smoke 


144 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


a  cigar.  His  was  a  case  in  which  I  feel  deep  in¬ 
terest —  a  lot  in  which  I  sincerely  sympathize.” 

“  But  here,”  said  I  —  “  here  ”  —  and  I  dragged 
spitefully  from  its  receptacle  a  gaunt,  tall,  and 
peculiar-looking  form,  whose  remarkable  appearance 
struck  me  with  a  sense  of  unwelcome  familiarity  — 
“  here,”  said  I — “here  is  a  wretch  entitled  to  no 
earthly  commiseration.”  Thus  saying,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  more  distinct  view  of  my  subject,  I  applied 
my  thumb  and  fore-finger  to  his  nose,  and,  causing 
him  to  assume  a  sitting  position  upon  the  ground, 
held,  him  thus,  at  the  length  of  my  arm,  while  I  con¬ 
tinued  my  soliloquy. 

—  “  Entitled,”  I  repeated,  “  to  no  earthly  commiser¬ 
ation.  Who  indeed  would  think  of  compassionating 
a  shadow  1  Besides  —  has  he  not  had  his  full  share 
of  the  blessings  of  mortality  ?  He  was  the  originator 
of  tall  monuments  —  shot-towers  —  lightning-rods 

—  lombardy-poplars.  His  treatise  upon  ‘  Shades  and 
Shadows’  has  immortalized  him.  He  went  early  to 
college  and  studied  pneumatics.  He  then  came 
home  —  talked  eternally  —  and  played  upon  the 
French-horn.  He  patronized  the  bag-pipes.  Captain 
Barclay,  who  walked  against  Time,  would  not  walk 
against  Aim.  Windham  and  Allbreath  were  his  favor¬ 
ite  writers.  He  died  gloriously  while  inhaling  gas 

—  levique  jiatu  corrumpitur,  like  th q  fama  pudicitiae 

in  Hieronymus.*  He  was  indubitably  a” - 

*  Tenera  res  in  feminis  fama  pudicitiae  et  quasi  Jlos  pulcherri- 
mus,  cito  ad  levern  marcessit  auram ,  levique  flatu  corrumpitur  — 
maxime,  &c, — .Hieronymus  ad  Salvinam. 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


145 


“How  can  you?  —  how  —  can — you?”  —  inter¬ 
rupted  the  object  of  my  animadversions,  gasping  for 
breath,  and  tearing  off,  with  a  desperate  exertion, 
the  bandage  around  his  jaws  —  how  can  you,  Mr. 
Lack-o’Breath,  be  so  infernally  cruel  as  to  pinch  me 
in  that  manner  by  the  nose  ?  Did  you  not  see  how  they 
had  fastened  up  my  mouth  —  and  you  know — if 

you  know  anything  —  whata  vast  superfluity  of  breath 
I  have  to  dispose  of !  If  you  do  not  know,  however,  sit 
down  and  you  shall  see.  In  my  situation  it  is  really 
a  great  relief  to  be  able  to  open  one’s  mouth  —  to  be 
able  to  expatiate  —  to  be  able  to  communicate  with 
a  person  like  yourself  who  do  not  think  yourself 
called  upon  at  every  period  to  interrupt  the  thread  of 
a  gentleman’s  discourse.  Interruptions  are  annoying 
and  should  undoubtedly  be  abolished  —  don’t  you 
think  so  ?  —  no  reply,  I  beg  you,  —  one  person  is 
enough  to  be  speaking  at  a  time.  I  shall  be  done 
by-and-by,  and  then  you  may  begin.  How  the 
devil,  sir,  did  you  get  into  this  place?  — not  a  word 
I  beseech  you  —  been  here  some  time  myself — 
terrible  accident !  —  heard  of  it,  I  suppose  —  awful 
calamity!  —  walking  under  your  windows — some 
short  while  ago  —  about  the  time  you  were  stage- 
struck —  horrible  occurrence!  heard  of  ‘catching 
one’s  breath,’  eh  ?  —  hold  your  tongue  I  tell  you  !  — 

I  caught  somebody  else’s  !  —  had  always  too  much 
of  my  own  —  met  Blab  at  the  corner  of  the  street  — 
would’nt  give  me  a  chance  for  a  word  —  could’nt 
get  in  a  syllable  edgeways  —  attacked,  consequently, 
with  epilepsis  —  Blab  made  his  escape — damn  all 
14* 


146 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


fools  !  —  they  took  me  up  for  dead,  and  put  me  in 
this  place  —  pretty  doings  all  of  them!  —  heard  all 
you  said  about  me — every  word  a  lie  —  horrible  • 

—  wonderful !  —  outrageous  !  —  hideous  !  —  incom¬ 

prehensible  !  —  et  cetera  —  et  cetera  —  et  cetera  — 
et  cetera  ” - 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  my  astonishment  at  so 
unexpected  a  discourse;  or  the  extravagant  joy  with 
which  I  became  gradually  convinced  that  the  breath 
so  fortunately  caught  by  the  gentleman  —  whom  I 
soon  recognised  as  my  neighbor  Windenough  — 
was,  in  fact,  the  identical  expiration  mislaid  by  my¬ 
self  in  the  conversation  with  my  wife.  Time  — 
place  —  and  incidental  circumstances  rendered  it  a 
matter  beyond  question.  I  did  not,  however,  im¬ 
mediately  release  my  hold  upon  Mr.  W.’s  proboscis 

—  not  at  least  during  the  long  period  in  which  the 
inventor  of  lombardy  poplars  continued  to  favor  me 
with  his  explanations.  In  this  respect  I  was  actuated 
by  that  habitual  prudence  which  has  ever  been  my 
predominating  trait. 

I  reflected  that  many  difficulties  might  still  lie  in 
the  path  of  my  preservation  which  only  extreme  exer¬ 
tion  on  my  part  would  be  able  to  surmount.  Many 
persons,  I  considered,  are  prone  to  estimate  commo¬ 
dities  in  their  possession — however  valueless  to  the 
then  proprietor  —  however  troublesome,  or  distress¬ 
ing  —  in  precise  ratio  with  the  advantages  to  be  de¬ 
rived  by  others  from  their  attainment  —  or  by  them¬ 
selves  from  their  abandonment.  Might  not  this  be  the 
case  with  Mr.  Windenough  ?  In  displaying  anxiety 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


147 


lor  the  breath  of  which  he  was  at  present  so  willing 
to  get  rid,  might  I  not  lay  myself  open  to  the  exac¬ 
tions  of  his  avarice  ?  There  are  scoundrels  in  this 
world  —  I  remembered  with  a  sigh  —  who  will  not 
scruple  to  take  unfair  opportunities  with  even  a  next 
door  neighbor  —  and  (this  remark  is  from  Epictetus) 
it  is  precisely  at  that  time  when  men  are  most  anxious 
to  throw  off  the  burden  of  their  own  calamities  that 
they  feel  the  least  desirous  of  relieving  them  in 
others. 

Upon  considerations  similar  to  these,  and  still  re¬ 
taining  my  grasp  upon  the  nose  of  Mr.  W.,  I  accord¬ 
ingly  thought  proper  to  model  my  reply. 

“Monster!”' — 1  began  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest 
indignation  —  “monster!  and  double-winded  idiot! 

—  dost  thou  whom,  for  thine  iniquities,  it  has  pleased 
heaven  to  accurse  with  a  two-fold  respiration  — 
dost  thou,  I  say,  presume  to  address  me  in  the  familiar 
language  of  an  old  acquaintance?  —  ‘  I  lie,’  forsooth! 

—  and ‘hold  my  tongue,’  to  be  sure — pretty  conversa¬ 
tion,  indeed,  to  a  gentleman  with  a  single  breath  !  — 
all  this,  too,  when  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  relieve 
the  calamity  under  which  thou  dost  so  justly  suffer 

—  to  curtail  the  superfluities  of  thine  unhappy  respi¬ 
ration.”  Like  Brutus  I  paused  fora  reply  —  with 
which,  like  a  tornado,  Mr.  Windenough  immediately 
overwhelmed  me.  Protestation  followed  upon  pro¬ 
testation,  and  apology  upon  apology.  There  were 
no  terms  with  which  he  was  unwilling  to  comply, 
and  there  were  none  of  which  I  failed  to  take  the 
fullest  advantage. 


148 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Preliminaries  being  at  length  arranged,  my  ac¬ 
quaintance  delivered  me  the  respiration  —  for  which 
—  having  carefully  examined  it  —  I  gave  him  after¬ 
wards  a  receipt. 

I  am  aware  that  by  many  I  shall  be  held  to  blame 
for  speaking  in  a  manner  so  cursory  of  a  transaction 
so  impalpable.  It  will  be  thought  that  I  should  have 
entered  more  minutely  into  the  details  of  an  occur¬ 
rence  by  which  —  and  all  this  is  very  true  —  much 
new  light  might  be  thrown  upon  a  highly  interesting 
branch  of  physical  philosophy. 

To  all  this  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  reply.  A 
hint  is  the  only  answer  which  I  am  permitted  to  make. 
There  were  circumstances  —  but  I  think  it  much 
safer  upon  consideration  to  say  as  little  as  possible 
about  an  affair  so  delicate  —  so  delicate ,  I  repeat, 
and  at  the  same  time  involving  the  interests  of  a  third 
party  whose  resentment  I  have  not  the  least  desire, 
at  this  moment,  of  incurring. 

We  were  not  long  after  this  necessary  arrange¬ 
ment  in  effecting  an  escape  from  the  dungeons  of  the 
sepulchre.  The  united  strength  of  our  resuscitated 
voices  was  soon  efficiently  apparent.  Scissors,  the 
Whig  Editor,  republished  a  treatise  upon  “  the 
nature  and  origin  of  subterranean  noises.”  A  reply  — 
rejoinder  —  confutation  —  and  justification  —  follow¬ 
ed  in  the  columns  of  an  ultra  Gazette.  It  was  not  until 
the  opening  of  the  vault  to  decide  the  controversy, 
that  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Windenough  and  myself 
proved  both  parties  to  have  been  decidedly  in  the 
wrong. 


LOSS  OF  BREATH. 


149 


I  cannot  conclude  these  details  of  some  very  singu¬ 
lar  passages  in  a  life  at  all  times  sufficiently  eventful, 
without  again  recalling  to  the  attention  of  the  reader 
the  merits  of  that  indiscriminate  philosophy  which  is 
a  sure  and  ready  shield  against  those  shafts  of  ca¬ 
lamity  which  can  be  neither  seen,  felt,  nor  fully  under¬ 
stood.  It  was  in  the  spirit  of  this  wisdom  that, 
among  the  ancient  Hebrews,  it  was  believed  the  gates 
of  heaven  would  be  inevitably  opened  to  that  sinner, 
or  saint,  who,  with  good  lungs  and  implicit  confidence, 
should  vociferate  the  word  “  Amen  /”  It  was  in  the 
spirit  of  this  wisdom  that,  when  a  great  plague  raged 
at  Athens,  and  every  means  had  been  in  vain  attempt¬ 
ed  for  its  removal,  Epimenides  —  as  Laertius  relates 
in  his  second  book  of  the  life  of  that  philosopher — - 
advised  the  erection  of  a  shrine  and  temple  — 
“  to  the  proper  God,” 


■ 


# 


METZENGERSTEIN. 


151 


METZENGERSTEIN. 


Pestis  eram  vivus  —  moriens  tua  mors  ero. 

Martin  Luther. 


Horror  and  fatality  have  been  stalking  abroad  in 
all  ages.  Why  then  give  a  date  to  the  story  I  have 
to  tell  ?  Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  at  the  period  of 
which  I  speak,  there  existed,  in  the  interior  of  Hun¬ 
gary,  a  settled  although  hidden  belief  in  the  doctrines 
of  the  Metempsychosis.  Of  the  doctrines  themselves 

—  that  is,  of  their  falsity,  or  of  their  probability  —  I 
say  nothing.  I  assert,  however,  that  much  of  our 
incredulity  — -  as  La  Bruyere  says  of  all  our  unhap¬ 
piness  —  “  vient  de  ne  pouvoir  etre  seuls.” 

But  there  were  some  points  in  the  Hungarian  super¬ 
stition  which  were  fast  verging  to  absurdity.  They 

—  the  Hungarians  —  differed  very  essentially  from 
their  Eastern  authorities.  For  example.  “The  soul” 
said  the  former  —  I  give  the  words  of  an  acute  and 
intelligent  Parisian  —  “  ne  demeure  qu’un  seul  fois 
dans  un  corps  sensible:  au  reste  —  un  cheval,  un 


152 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


chien,  un  liomme  meme,  n’est  que  la  ressemblance peu 
tangible  de  ces  animaux.” 

The  families  of  Berlifitzing  and  Metzengerstein  had 
been  at  variance  for  centuries.  Never  before  were 
two  houses  so  illustrious  mutually  embittered  by  hos¬ 
tility  so  deadly.  Indeed,  at  the  era  of  this  history, 
it  was  observed  by  an  old  crone  of  haggard  and 
sinister  appearance,  that  “  fire  and  water  might  sooner 
mingle  than  a  Berlifitzing  clasp  the  hand  of  a  Metzen¬ 
gerstein.”  The  origin  of  this  enmity  seems  to  be 
found  in  the  words  of  an  ancient  prophecy  —  “A 
lofty  name  shall  have  a  fearful  fall  when,  like  the 
rider  over  his  horse,  the  mortality  of  Metzengerstein 
shall  triumph  over  the  immortality  of  Berlifitzing.” 

To  be  sure  the  words  themselves  had  little  or  no 
meaning.  But  more  trivial  causes  have  given  rise  — 
and  that  no  long  while  ago  —  to  consequences  equally 
eventful.  Besides,  the  estates,  which  were  contigu¬ 
ous,  had  long  exercised  a  rival  influence  in  the  affairs 
of  a  busy  government.  Moreover,  near  neighbors 
are  seldom  friends  —  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  Castle 
Berlifitizing  might  look,  from  their  lofty  buttresses, 
into  the  very  windows  of  the  Chateau  Metzenger- 
stein.  Least  of  all  was  the  more  than  feudal  magni¬ 
ficence  thus  discovered  calculated  to  allay  the  irri¬ 
table  feelings  of  the  less  ancient  and  less  wealthy 
Berlifitzings.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  words, 
however  silly,  of  that  prediction,  should  have  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  setting  and  keeping  at  variance  two  families 
already  predisposed  to  quarrel  by  every  instigation  of 
hereditary  jealousy  ?  The  prophecy  seemed  to  imply 


METZENGERSTEIN. 


153 


—  if  it  implied  anything  —  a  final  triumph  on  the 
part  of  the  already  more  powerful  house  ;  and  was 
of  course  remembered  with  the  more  bitter  animosity 
on  the  side  of  the  weaker  and  less  influential. 

Wilhelm,  Count  Berlifitzing,  although  honorably 
and  loftily  descended,  was,  at  the  epoch  of  this  nar¬ 
rative,  an  infirm  and  doting  old  man,  remarkable  for 
nothing  but  an  inordinate  and  inveterate  personal 
antipathy  to  the  family  of  his  rival,  and  so  passionate 
a  love  of  horses,  and  of  hunting,  that  neither  bodily 
infirmity,  great  age,  nor  mental  incapacity,  prevented 
his  daily  participation  in  the  dangers  of  the  chase. 

Frederick,  Baron  Metzengerstein,  was,  on  the 
other  hand,  not  yet  of  age.  His  father,  the  Minister 

G - ,  died  young.  His  mother,  the  Lady  Mary, 

followed  quickly  after.  Frederick  was,  at  that  time, 
in  his  fifteenth  year.  In  a  city  fifteen  years  are  no 
long  period  —  a  child  may  be  still  a  child  in  his  third 
lustrum  :  but  in  a  wilderness  —  in  so  magnificent  a 
wilderness  as  that  old  principality,  fifteen  years  have 
a  far  deeper  meaning. 

The  beautiful  Lady  Mary  !  How  could  she  die  ? 

—  and  of  consumption  !  But  it  is  a  path  I  have  prayed 
to  follow.  I  wmuld  wish  all  I  love  to  perish  of  that 
gentle  disease.  How  glorious  !  to  depart  in  the  hey¬ 
day  of  the  young  blood  —  the  heart  all  passion  —  the 
imagination  all  fire  —  amid  the  remembrances  of  hap¬ 
pier  days  —  in  the  fall  of  the  year  —  and  so  be  buried 
up  forever  in  the  gorgeous  autumnal  leaves ! 

Thus  died  the  Lady  Mary.  The  young  Baron 
Frederick  stood  without  a  living  relative  by  the  coffin 

VOL.  ii. — 15 


154 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


of  his  dead  mother.  He  placed  his  hand  upon  her 
placid  forehead.  No  shudder  came  over  his  delicate 
frame  —  no  sigh  from  his  flinty  bosom.  Heartless, 
self-willed  and  impetuous  from  his  childhood,  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  which  I  speak  through  a  career 
of  unfeeling,  wanton,  and  reckless  dissipation ;  and  a 
barrier  had  long  since  arisen  in  the  channel  of  all  holy 
thoughts  and  gentle  recollections. 

From  some  peculiar  circumstances  attending  the 
administration  of  his  father,  the  young  Baron,  at  the 
decease  of  the  former,  entered  immediately  upon  his 
vast  possessions.  Such  estates  were  seldom  held 
before  by  a  nobleman  of  Hungary.  His  castles 
were  without  number  —  of  these  the  chief  in  point  of 
splendor  and  extent  was  the  “  Chateau  Metzenger- 
stein.”  The  boundary  line  of  his  dominions  was  never 
clearly  defined  —  but  his  principal  park  embraced  a 
circuit  of  fifty  miles. 

Upon  the  succession  of  a  proprietor  so  young  — 
with  a  character  so  well  known  —  to  a  fortune  so 
unparalleled  —  little  speculation  was  afloat  in  regard 
to  his  probable  course  of  conduct.  And,  indeed,  for 
the  space  of  three  days  the  behavior  of  the  heir  out- 
heroded  Herod,  and  fairly  surpassed  the  expectations 
of  his  most  enthusiastic  admirers.  Shameful  debauch¬ 
eries  —  flagrant  treacheries  —  unheard-of  atrocities 
—  gave  his  trembling  vassals  quickly  to  understand 
that  no  servile  submission  on  their  part  —  no  punc¬ 
tilios  of  conscience  on  his  own  —  were  thenceforward 
to  prove  any  security  against  the  remorseless  and 
bloody  fangs  of  a  petty  Caligula.  On  the  night  of 


METZENGERSTEIN. 


155 


the  fourth  day,  the  stables  of  the  castle  Berlifitzing 
were  discovered  to  be  on  fire :  and  the  unanimous 
opinion  of  the  neighborhood  instantaneously  added 
the  crime  of  the  incendiary  to  the  already  hideous 
list  of  the  Baron’s  misdemeanors  and  enormities. 

But  during  the  tumult  occasioned  by  this  occur¬ 
rence,  the  young  nobleman  himself  sat,  apparently 
buried  in  meditation,  in  a  vast  and  desolate  upper 
apartment  of  the  family  palace  of  Metzengerstein. 
The  rich  although  faded  tapestry-hangings  which 
swung  gloomily  upon  the  walls,  represented  the 
shadowy  and  majestic  forms  of  a  thousand  illustrious 
ancestors.  Here,  rich-ermined  priests,  and  pontifical 
dignitaries,  familiarly  seated  with  the  autocrat  and 
the  sovereign,  put  a  veto  on  the  wishes  of  a  temporal 
king  —  or  restrained  with  the  fiat  of  papal  supremacy 
the  rebellious  sceptre  of  the  Arch-enemy.  There,  the 
dark,  tall  statures  of  the  Princess  Metzengerstein  — 
their  muscular  war-coursers  plunging  over  the  carcass 
of  a  fallen  foe  —  startled  the  steadiest  nerves  with 
their  vigorous  expression  :  and  here,  again,  the  volup¬ 
tuous  and  swan-like  figures  of  the  dames  of  days  gone 
by,  floated  away  in  the  mazes  of  an  unreal  dance  to 
the  strains  of  imaginary  melody. 

But  as  the  Baron  listened,  or  affected  to  listen,  to 
the  gradually  increasing  uproar  in  the  stables  of 
Berlifitzing  —  or  perhaps  pondered  upon  some  more 
novel — some  more  decided  act  of  audacity  —  his 
eyes  became  unwittingly  rivetted  to  the  figure  of  an 
enormous,  and  unnaturally  colored  horse,  represented 
in  the  tapestry  as  belonging  to  a  Saracen  ancestor  of 


156 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  family  of  his  rival.  The  horse  itself,  in  the  fore¬ 
ground  of  the  design,  stood  motionless  and  statue-like 
—  while  farther  back  its  discomfited  rider  perished 
by  the  dagger  of  a  Metzengerstein. 

On  Frederick’s  lip  arose  a  fiendish  expression,  as 
he  became  aware  of  the  direction  his  glance  had, 
without  his  consciousness,  assumed.  Yet  he  did  not 
remove  it.  On  the  contrary  he  could  by  no  means 
account  for  the  overwhelming  anxiety  which  appear¬ 
ed  falling  like  a  shroud  upon  his  senses.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  reconciled  his  dreamy  and  inco¬ 
herent  feelings  with  the  certainty  of  being  awake. 
The  longer  he  gazed,  the  more  absorbing  became  the 
spell  —  the  more  impossible  did  it  appear  that  he 
could  ever  withdraw  his  glance  from  the  fascination 
of  that  tapestry.  But  the  tumult  without  becoming 
suddenly  more  violent,  with  a  kind  of  compulsory  and 
desperate  exertion  he  diverted  his  attention  to  the 
glare  of  ruddy  light  thrown  full  by  the  flaming  stables 
upon  the  windows  of  the  apartment. 

The  action,  however,  was  but  momentary  —  his 
gaze  returned  mechanically  to  the  wall.  To  his 
extreme  horror  and  astonishment  the  head  of  the 
gigantic  steed  had,  in  the  meantime,  altered  its  posi¬ 
tion.  The  neck  of  the  animal,  before  arched,  as  if  in 
compassion,  over  the  prostrate  body  of  its  lord,  was 
now  extended,  at  full  length,  in  the  direction  of  the 
Baron.  The  eyes,  before  invisible,  now  wore  an 
energetic  and  human  expression,  while  they  gleamed 
with  a  fiery  and  unusual  red  :  and  the  distended  lips 
of  the  apparently  enraged  horse  left  in  full  view  his 
gigantic  and  disgusting  teeth. 


METZENGERSTEIX. 


157 


Stupified  with  terror  the  young  nobleman  tottered 
to  the  door.  As  he  threw  it  open,  a  flash  of  red 
light  streaming  far  into  the  chamber,  flung  his  shadow 
with  a  clear  outline  against  the  quivering  tapestry ; 
and  he  shuddered  to  perceive  that  shadow  —  as  he 
staggered  awhile  upon  the  threshold  —  assuming  the 
exact  position,  and  precisely  filling  up  the  contour,  of 
the  relentless  and  triumphant  murderer  of  the  Saracen 
Berlifitzing. 

To  lighten  the  depression  of  his  spirits  the  Baron 
hurried  into  the  open  air.  At  the  principal  gate  of 
the  chateau  he  encountered  three  equerries.  With 
much  difficulty,  and  at  the  imminent  peril  of  their 
lives,  they  were  restraining  the  unnatural  and  con¬ 
vulsive  plunges  of  a  gigantic  and  fiery-colored  horse. 

“  Whose  horse  ?  Where  did  you  get  him  ?”  de¬ 
manded  the  youth  in  a  querulous  and  husky  tone  of 
voice,  as  he  became  instantly  aware  that  the  myste¬ 
rious  steed  in  the  tapestried  chamber  was  the  very 
counterpart  of  the  furious  animal  before  his  eyes. 

“  He  is  your  own  property,  sire”  — replied  one  of 
the  equerries  —  “  at  least  he  is  claimed  by  no  other 
owner.  We  caught  him  flying,  all  smoking  and 
foaming  with  rage,  from  the  burning  stables  of  the 
Castle  Berlifitzing.  Supposing  him  to  have  belonged 
to  the  old  Count’s  stud  of  foreign  horses,  we  led  him 
back  as  an  estray.  But  the  grooms  there  disclaim 
any  title  to  the  creature  —  which  is  strange,  since 
he  bears  evident  marks  of  having  made  a  narrow 
escape  from  the  flames.” 

“  The  letters  W.  V.  B.  are  also  branded  very  dis- 

15* 


158 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


tinctly  on  his  forehead”  —  interrupted  a  second 
equerry — “I  supposed  them,  of  course,  to  be  the 
initials  of  Wilhelm  Yon  Berlifitzing  —  but  all  at  the 
castle  are  positive  in  denying  any  knowledge  of  the 
horse.” 

“  Extremely  singular  !”  said  the  young  Baron,  with 
a  musing  air,  and  apparently  unconscious  of  the 
meaning  of  his  words  —  “  He  is,  as  you  say,  a  re¬ 
markable  horse  —  a  prodigious  horse  !  although,  as 
you  very  justly  observe,  of  a  suspicious  and  untract- 

able  character - let  him  be  mine,  however,”  he 

added,  after  a  pause  —  “  perhaps  a  rider  like  Freder¬ 
ick  of  Metzengerstein,  may  tame  even  the  devil  from 
the  stables  of  Berlifitzing.” 

“You  are  mistaken,  my  lord — the  horse,  as  I 
think  we  mentioned,  is  not  from  the  stables  of  the 
Count.  If  such  were  the  case,  we  know  our  duty 
better  than  to  bring  him  into  the  presence  of  a  noble 
of  your  family.” 

“True!”  observed  the  Baron  drily  —  and  at  that 
instant  a  page  of  the  bed-chamber  came  from  the 
chateau  with  a  heightened  color,  and  precipitate  step. 
He  whispered  into  his  master’s  ear  an  account  of  the 
miraculous  and  sudden  disappearance  of  a  small 
portion  of  the  tapestry,  in  an  apartment  which  he 
designated;  entering,  at  the  same  time,  into  par¬ 
ticulars  of  a  minute  and  circumstantial  character  — 
but  from  the  low  tone  of  voice  in  which  these  latter 
were  communicated,  nothing  escaped  to  gratify  the 
excited  curiosity  of  the  equerries. 

The  young  Frederick,  during  the  conference, 


METZENGER3TEIIV. 


159 


seemed  agitated  by  a  variety  of  emotions.  He  soon, 
however,  recovered  his  composure,  and  an  expression 
of  determined  malignancy  settled  upon  his  coun¬ 
tenance,  as  he  gave  peremptory  orders  that  a  certain 
chamber  should  be  immediately  locked  up,  and  the 
key  placed  in  his  own  possession. 

“  Have  you  heard  of  the  unhappy  death  of  the  old 
hunter  Berlifitzing?’  said  one  of  his  vassals  to  the 
Baron,  as,  after  the  affair  of  the  page,  the  huge  and 
mysterious  steed  which  that  nobleman  had  adopted 
as  his  own,  plunged  and  curvetted,  with  redoubled 
and  supernatural  fury,  down  the  long  avenue  which 
extended  from  the  chateau  to  the  stables  of  Metzen- 
gerstein. 

“  No  !”  —  said  the  Baron,  turning  abruptly  towards 
the  speaker  —  “  dead  !  say  you  V’ 

“  It  is  indeed  true,  my  lord  —  and,  to  a  noble  of 
your  name,  will  be,  I  imagine,  no  unwelcome  in¬ 
telligence.” 

A  rapid  smile  of  a  peculiar  and  unintelligible  mean¬ 
ing  shot  over  the  beautiful  countenance  of  the  listener 
—  “  How  died  he  1” 

“  In  his  rash  exertions  to  rescue  a  favorite  portion 
of  his  hunting  stud,  he  has  himself  perished  miserably 
in  the  flames.” 

“I — n — d — e — e — d — !”  ejaculated  the  Baron,  as 
if  slowly  and  deliberately  impressed  with  the  truth 
of  some  exciting  idea. 

“  Indeed  ”  —  repeated  the  vassal. 

“  Shocking !”  said  the  youth  calmly,  and  turned 
quietly  into  the  chateau. 


160 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


From  this  date  a  marked  alteration  took  place  in 
the  outward  demeanor  of  the  dissolute  young  Baron 
Frederick  Von  Metzengerstein.  Indeed  his  be¬ 
havior  disappointed  every  expectation,  and  proved 
little  in  accordance  with  the  views  of  many  a  ma¬ 
noeuvring  mamma  —  w^hile  his  habits  and  manners, 
still  less  than  formerly,  offered  anything  congenial 
with  those  of  the  neighboring  aristocracy.  He  was 
never  to  be  seen  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  domain? 
and,  in  this  wide  and  social  world,  was  utterly  com¬ 
panionless —  unless,  indeed,  that  unnatural,  impetuous, 
and  fiery-colored  horse,  which  he  henceforward  con¬ 
tinually  bestrode,  had  any  mysterious  right  to  the 
title  of  his  friend. 

Numerous  invitations  on  the  part  of  the  neighbor¬ 
hood  for  a  long  time,  however,  periodically  came 
in  —  “  Will  the  Baron  honor  our  festivals  with  his 
presence  ?”  “  Will  the  Baron  join  us  in  a  hunting  of  the 
boar?”  “  Metzengerstein  does  not  hunt  ”  —  “  Metzen¬ 
gerstein  will  not  attend”  —  were  the  haughty  and 
laconic  answers. 

These  repeated  insults  were  not  to  be  endured  by 
an  imperious  nobility.  Such  invitations  became  less 
cordial  —  less  frequent  —  in  time  they  ceased  al¬ 
together.  The  widow  of  the  unfortunate  Count 
Berlifitzing  was  even  heard  to  express  a  hope  — 
“  that  the  Baron  might  be  at  home  when  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  at  home,  since  he  disdained  the  company 
of  his  equals  ;  and  ride  when  he  did  not  wish  to  ride, 
since  he  preferred  the  society  of  a  horse.”  This  to 
be  sure  was  a  very  silly  explosion  of  hereditary 


METZENGERSTEIIV. 


161 


pique ;  and  merely  proved  how  singularly  unmeaning 
our  sayings  are  apt  to  become,  when  we  desire  to 
be  unusually  energetic. 

The  charitable,  nevertheless,  attributed  the  altera¬ 
tion  in  the  conduct  of  the  young  nobleman  to  the 
natural  sorrow  of  a  son  for  the  untimely  loss  of  his 
parents  —  forgetting,  however,  his  atrocious  and 
reckless  behavior  during  the  short  period  immediately 
succeeding  that  bereavement.  .Some  there  were, 
indeed,  who  suggested  a  too  haughty  idea  of  self¬ 
consequence  and  dignity.  Others  again  —  among 
whom  may  be  mentioned  the  family  physician  —  did 
not  hesitate  in  speaking  of  morbid  melancholy,  and 
hereditary  ill-health  :  while  dark  hints,  of  a  more 
equivocal  nature,  were  current  among  the  multitude. 

Indeed  the  Baron’s  perverse  attachment  to  his 
lately-acquired  charger  —  an  attachment  which 
seemed  to  attain  new  strength  from  every  fresh  ex¬ 
ample  of  the  animal’s  ferocious  and  demon-like  pro¬ 
pensities  —  at  length  became,  in  the  eyes  of  all 
reasonable  men,  a  hideous  and  unnatural  fervor.  In 
the  glare  of  noon  —  at  the  dead  hour  of  night — in 
sickness  or  in  health  —  in  calm  or  in  tempest  —  in 
moonlight  or  in  shadow  —  the  young  Metzengerstein 
seetned  rivetted  to  the  saddle  of  that  colossal  horse, 
whose  intractable  audacities  so  well  accorded  with 
the  spirit  of  his  own. 

There  were  circumstances,  moreover,  which, 
coupled  with  late  events,  gave  an  unearthly  and  por¬ 
tentous  character  to  the  mania  of  the  rider,  and  to 
the  capabilities  of  the  steed.  The  space  passed  over 


162 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


in  a  single  leap  had  been  accurately  measured,  and 
was  found  to  exceed  by  an  astounding  difference,  the 
wildest  expectations  of  the  most  imaginative.  The 
Baron,  besides,  had  no  particular  name  for  the  animal, 
although  all  the  rest  in  his  extensive  collection  were 
distinguished  by  characteristic  appellations.  His 
stable,  too,  was  appointed  at  a  distance  from  the 
rest ;  and  with  regard  to  grooming  and  other  ne¬ 
cessary  offices,  none  but  the  owner  in  person  had 
ventured  to  officiate,  or  even  to  enter  the  enclosure 
of  that  particular  stall.  It  was  also  to  be  observed, 
that  although  the  three  grooms,  who  had  caught  the 
horse  as  he  fled  from  the  conflagration  at  Berlifitzing, 
had  succeeded  in  arresting  his  course,  by  means  of 
a  chain-bridle  and  noose  —  yet  no  one  of  the  three 
could  with  any  certainty  affirm  that  he  had,  during 
that  dangerous  struggle,  or  at  any  period  thereafter, 
actually  placed  his  hand  upon  the  body  of  the  beast. 
Instances  of  peculiar  intelligence  in  the  demeanor  of 
a  noble  and  high  spirited  steed  are  not  to  be  sup¬ 
posed  capable  of  exciting  unreasonable  attention  — 
especially  among  men  who,  daily  trained  to  the 
labors  of  the  chase,  might  appear  well  acquainted 
with  the  sagacity  of  a  horse  —  but  there  were  cer¬ 
tain  circumstances  which  intruded  themselves  per 
force,  upon  the  most  skeptical  and  phlegmatic — and 
it  is  said  there  were  times  when  the  animal  caused 
the  gaping  crowd  who  stood  around  to  recoil  in  silent 
horror  from  the  deep  and  impressive  meaning  of  his 
terrible  stamp  —  times  when  the  young  Metzenger- 
stein  turned  pale  and  shrunk  away  from  the  rapid 


METZENGERSTEW. 


163 


and  searching  expression  of  his  earnest  and  human- 
looking  eye. 

Among  all  the  retinue  of  the  Baron,  however,  none 
were  found  to  doubt  the  ardor  of  that  extraordinary 
affection  which  existed  on  the  part  of  the  young 
nobleman  for  the  fiery  qualities  of  his  horse  —  at 
least,  none  but  an  insignificant  and  misshapen  little 
page,  whose  deformities  were  in  every  body’s  way, 
and  whose  opinions  were  of  the  least  possible  import¬ 
ance.  He  —  if  his  ideas  are  worth  mentioning  at  all 
—  had  the  effrontery  to  assert  that  his  master  never 
vaulted  into  the  saddle,  without  an  unaccountable  and 
almost  imperceptible  shudder  —  and  that,  upon  his 
return  from  every  long-continued  and  habitual  ride, 
an  expression  of  triumphant  malignity  distorted  every 
muscle  in  his  countenance. 

One  tempestuous  night,  Metzengerstein,  awaking 
from  a  heavy  and  oppressive  slumber,  descended  like 
a  maniac  from  his  chamber,  and  mounting  in  great 
haste,  bounded  away  into  the  mazes  of  the  forest. 
An  occurrence  so  common  attracted  no  particular  at¬ 
tention —  but  his  return  was  looked  for  with  intense 
anxiety  on  the  part  of  his  domestics,  when,  after 
some  hour’s  absence,  the  stupendous  and  magnificent 
battlements  of  the  Chateau  Metzengerstein,  were 
discovered  crackling  and  rocking  to  their  very  foun¬ 
dation,  under  the  influence  of  a  dense  and  livid  mass 
of  ungovernable  fire. 

As  the  flames,  when  first  seen,  had  already  made 
so  terrible  a  progress  that  all  efforts  to  save  any  por- 


164 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


tion  of  the  building  were  evidently  futile,  the  astonish¬ 
ed  neighborhood  stood  idly  around  in  silent  and  apa¬ 
thetic  wonder.  But  a  new  and  fearful  object  soon 
rivetted  the  attention  of  the  multitude,  and  proved 
how  much  more  intense  is  the  excitement  wrought  in 
the  feelings  of  a  crowd  by  the  contemplation  of  human 
agony,  than  that  brought  about  by  the  most  appalling 
spectacles  of  inanimate  matter. 

Up  the  long  avenue  of  aged  oaks  which  led  from 
the  forest  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  Chateau 
Metzengerstein,  a  steed,  bearing  an  unbonneted  and 
disordered  rider,  was  seen  leaping  with  an  impetuosity 
which  out-stripped  the  very  Demon  of  the  Tempest, 
and  extorted  from  every  stupified  beholder  the  ejacu¬ 
lation  —  “  horrible !” 

The  career  of  the  horseman  was  indisputably,  on 
his  own  part,  uncontrollable.  The  agony  of  his 
countenance  —  the  convulsive  struggle  of  his  frame 
—  gave  evidence  of  superhuman  exertion:  but  no 
sound,  save  a  solitary  shriek,  escaped  from  his  lacer¬ 
ated  lips,  which  were  bitten  through  and  through  in 
the  intensity  of  terror.  One  instant,  and  the  clat¬ 
tering  of  hoofs  resounded  sharply  and  shrilly  above 
the  roaring  of  the  flames  and  the  shrieking  of  the 
winds  —  another,  and,  clearing  at  a  single  plunge  the 
gate-way  and  the  moat,  the  steed  bounded  far  up  the 
tottering  stair-cases  of  the  palace,  and,  with  its 
rider,  disappeared  amid  the  whirlwind  of  chaotic  fire. 

The  fury  of  the  tempest  immediately  died  away, 
and  a  dead  calm  sullenly  succeeded.  A  white  flame 


METZENGERSTEW. 


165 


still  enveloped  the  building  like  a  shroud,  and,  stream¬ 
ing  far  away  into  the  quiet  atmosphere,  shot  forth  a 
glare  of  preternatural  light ;  while  a  cloud  of  smoke 
settled  heavily  over  the  battlements  in  the  distinct 
colossal  figure  of  —  a  horse. 


VOL.  II. — 16 


BERENICE 


167 


BERENICE. 


Misery  is  manifold.  The  wretchedness  of  earth  is 
multiform.  Overreaching  the  wide  horizon  like  the 
rainbow,  its  hues  are  as  various  as  the  hues  of  that 
arch,  as  distinct  too,  yet  as  intimately  blended.  Over¬ 
reaching  the  wide  horizon  like  the  rainbow  !  How 
is  it  that  from  beauty  I  have  derived  a  type  of  un¬ 
loveliness?  —  from  the  covenant  of  peace  a  simile  of 
sorrow  ?  But  as,  in  ethics,  evil  is  a  consequence  of 
good,  so,  in  fact,  out  of  joy  is  sorrow  born.  Either  the 
memory  of  past  bliss  is  the  anguish  of  to-day,  or  the 
agonies  which  are  have  their  origin  in  the  ecstasies 
which  might  have  been.  I  have  a  tale  to  tell  in 
its  own  essence  rife  with  horror  —  I  would  suppress 
it  were  it  not  a  record  more  of  feelings  than  of 
facts. 

My  baptismal  name  is  Egaeus  —  that  of  my  family 
1  will  not  mention.  Yet  there  are  no  towers  in  the 
land  more  time-honored  than  my  gloomy,  gray  here¬ 
ditary  halls.  Our  line  has  been  called  a  race  of 
visionaries:  and  in  many  striking  particulars  —  in 
the  character  of  the  family  mansion  —  in  the  frescos 


168 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


of  the  chief  saloon  —  in  the  tapestries  of  the  dormi¬ 
tories —  in  the  chiseling  of  some  buttresses  in  the 
armory  —  but  more  especially  in  the  gallery  of  an¬ 
tique  paintings  — in  the  fashion  of  the  library  chamber 
—  and,  lastly,  in  the  very  peculiar  nature  of  the 
library’s  contents,  there  is  more  than  sufficient  evi¬ 
dence  to  warrant  the  belief. 

The  recollections  of  my  earliest  years  are  connected 
with  that  chamber,  and  with  its  volumes  —  of  which 
latter  I  will  say  no  more.  Here  died  my  mother. 
Herein  was  I  born.  But  it  is  mere  idleness  to  say 
that  I  had  not  lived  before — that  the  soul  has  no 
previous  existence.  You  deny  it  —  let  us  not  argue 
the  matter.  Convinced  myself  I  seek  not  to  convince. 
There  is,  however,  a  remembrance  of  aerial  forms  — 
of  spiritual  and  meaning  eyes  —  of  sounds,  musical 
yet  sad  —  a  remembrance  which  will  not  be  excluded  : 
a  memory  like  a  shadow,  vague,  variable,  indefinite, 
unsteady  —  and  like  a  shadow  too  in  the  impossibility 
of  my  getting  rid  of  it,  while  the  sunlight  of  my 
reason  shall  exist. 

In  that  chamber  was  I  born.  Thus  awaking  from 
the  long  night  of  what  seemed,  but  was  not,  nonentity, 
at  once  into  the  very  regions  of  fairy  land  —  into  a 
palace  of  imagination  —  into  the  wild  dominions  of 
monastic  thought  and  erudition  —  it  is  not  singular 
that  I  gazed  around  me  with  a  startled  and  ardent 
eye  —  that  I  loitered  away  my  boyhood  in  books,  and 
dissipated  my  youth  in  reverie  —  but  it  is  singular 
that  as  years  rolled  away,  and  the  noon  of  manhood 
found  me  still  in  the  mansion  of  my  fathers  —  it  is 


BERENICE. 


169 


wonderful  what  stagnation  there  fell  upon  the  springs 
of  my  life  —  wonderful  how  total  an  inversion  took 
place  in  the  character  of  my  common  thoughts.  The 
realities  of  the  world  affected  me  as  visions,  and  as 
visions  only,  while  the  wild  ideas  of  the  land  of 
dreams  became,  in  turn,  —  not  the  material  of  my 
every-day  existence  —  but  in  very  deed  that  existence 
utterly  and  solely  in  itself. 

Berenice  and  I  were  cousins,  and  we  grew  up 
together  in  my  paternal  halls  —  yet  differently  we 
grew.  I  ill  of  health  and  buried  in  gloom  —  she 
agile,  graceful,  and  overflowing  with  energy.  Hers 
the  ramble  on  the  hill-side  —  mine  the  studies  of  the 
cloister.  I  living  within  my  own  heart,  and  addicted 
body  and  soul  to  the  most  intense  and  painful  medi¬ 
tation  —  she  roaming  carelessly  through  life  with  no 
thought  of  the  shadows  in  her  path,  or  the  silent  flight 
of  the  raven-winged  hours.  Berenice!  —  I  call  upon 
her  name  —  Berenice  !  —  and  from  the  gray  ruins  of 
memory  a  thousand  tumultuous  recollections  are 
startled  at  the  sound  !  Ah  !  vividly  is  her  image  be¬ 
fore  me  now,  as  in  the  early  days  of  her  light-heart¬ 
edness  and  joy !  Oh!  gorgeous  yet  fantastic  beauty ! 
Oh  !  sylph  amid  the  shrubberies  of  Arnheim  !  —  Oh  ! 
Naiad  among  her  fountains  !  —  and  then  —  then  all 
is  mystery  and  terror,  and  a  tale  which  should  not  be 
told.  Disease  —  a  fatal  disease  — fell  like  the  simoon 
upon  her  frame,  and,  even  while  I  gazed  upon  her, 
16* 


170 


GROTESQUE  ARTD  ARABESQUE. 


the  spirit  of  change  swept  over  her,  pervading  her 
mind,  her  habits,  and  her  character,  and,  in  a  manner 
the  most  subtle  and  terrible,  disturbing  even  the 
identity  of  her  person  !  Alas  !  the  destroyer  came 
and  went,  and  the  victim  —  where  was  she  1  I  knew 
her  not  —  or  knew  her  no  longer  as  Berenice. 

Among  the  numerous  train  of  maladies,  superin¬ 
duced  by  that  fatal  and  primary  one  which  effected  a 
revolution  of  so  horrible  a  kind  in  the  moral  and  phy¬ 
sical  being  of  my  cousin,  may  be  mentioned  as  the 
most  distressing  and  obstinate  in  its  nature,  a  species 
of  epilepsy  not  unfrequently  terminating  in  trance 
itself  — trance  very  nearly  resembling  positive  disso¬ 
lution,  and  from  which  her  manner  of  recovery  was, 
in  most  instances,  startlingly  abrupt.  In  the  mean¬ 
time  my  own  disease  —  for  I  have  been  told  that  I 
should  call  it  by  no  other  appellation  —  my  own  dis¬ 
ease,  then,  grew  rapidly  upon  me,  and,  aggravated 
in  its  symptoms  by  the  immoderate  use  of  opium,  as¬ 
sumed  finally  a  monomaniac  character  of  a  novel  and 
extraordinary  form  —  hourly  and  momently  gaining 
vigor — and  at  length  obtaining  over  me  the  most 
singular  and  incomprehensible  ascendency.  This 
monomania  —  if  I  must  so  term  it  —  consisted  in  a 
morbid  irritability  of  the  nerves  immediately  affecting 
those  properties  of  the  mind  in  metaphysical  science 
termed  the  attentive.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  I 
am  not  understood  —  but  I  fear  that  it  is  indeed  in  no 
manner  possible  to  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  merely 
general  reader,  an  adequate  idea  of  that  nervous  in¬ 
tensity  of  interest  with  which,  in  my  case,  the 


BERENICE. 


171 


powers  of  meditation  (not  to  speak  technically)  busied 
and,  as  it  were,  buried  themselves,  in  the  contempla¬ 
tion  of  even  the  most  common  objects  of  the  universe. 

To  muse  for  long  unwearied  hours  with  my  atten¬ 
tion  rivetted  to  some  frivolous  device  upon  the  margin* 
or  in  the  typography  of  a  book  — ■  to  become  absorbed 
for  the  better  part  of  a  summer’s  day  in  a  quaint 
shadow  falling  aslant  upon  the  tapestry,  or  upon  the 
floor  —  to  lose  myself  for  an  entire  night  in  watching 
the  steady  flame  of  a  lamp,  or  the  embers  of  a  fire 
—  to  dream  away  whole  days  over  the  perfume  of  a 
flower — to  repeat  monotonously  some  common  wrnrd, 
until  the  sound,  by  dint  of  frequent  repetition,  ceased 
to  convey  any  idea  whatever  to  the  mind  —  to  lose 
all  sense  of  motion  or  physical  existence  in  a  state  of 
absolute  bodily  quiescence  long  and  obstinately  per¬ 
severed  in  —  such  were  a  few  of  the  most  common 
and  least  pernicious  vagaries  induced  by  a  condition 
of  the  mental  faculties,  not,  indeed,  altogether  un¬ 
paralleled,  but  certainly  bidding  defiance  to  anything 
like  analysis  or  explanation. 

Yet  let  me  not  be  misapprehended.  The  undue, 
earnest,  and  morbid  attention  thus  excited  by  objects 
in  their  own  nature  frivolous,  must  not  be  confounded 
in  character  with  that  ruminating  propensity  com¬ 
mon  to  all  mankind,  and  more  especially  indulged  in 
by  persons  of  ardent  imagination.  It  was  not  even, 
as  might  be  at  first  supposed,  an  extreme  condition, 
or  exaggeration  of  such  propensity,  but  primarily  and 
essentiallv  distinct  and  different.  In  the  one  instance 


172 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  dreamer,  or  enthusiast,  being  interested  by  an  ob¬ 
ject  usually  not  frivolous,  imperceptibly  loses  sight  of 
this  object  in  a  wilderness  of  deductions  and  sug¬ 
gestions  issuing  therefrom,  until,  at  the  conclusion  of 
a  day-dream  often  replete  with  luxury,  he  finds  the 
in cit amentum  or  first  cause  of  his  musings  entirely 
vanished  and  forgotten.  In  my  case  the  primary  ob¬ 
ject  was  invariably  frivolous,  although  assuming, 
through  the  medium  of  my  distempered  vision,  a  re¬ 
fracted  and  unreal  importance.  Few  deductions  — 
if  any  —  were  made;  and  those  few  pertinaciously 
returning  in,  so  to  speak,  upon  the  original  object  as 
a  centre.  The  meditations  were  never  pleasurable  ; 
and,  at  the  termination  of  the  reverie,  the  first  cause, 
so  far  from  being  out  of  sight,  had  attained  that 
'supernaturally  exaggerated  interest  which  was  the 
prevailing  feature  of  the  disease.  In  a  word,  the 
powers  of  mind  more  particularly  exercised  were, 
with  me,  as  I  have  said  before,  the  attentive,  and  are, 
with  the  day-dreamer,  the  speculative. 

My  books,  at  this  epoch,  if  they  did  not  actually 
serve  to  irritate  the  disorder,  partook,  it  will  be  per¬ 
ceived,  largely,  in  their  imaginative,  and  inconse¬ 
quential  nature,  of  the  characteristic  qualities  of  the 
disorder  itself.  I  well  remember,  among  others,  the 
treatise  of  the  noble  Italian  Coelius  Secundus  Curio 
“  de  amplitudine  beati  regni  Dei ”  —  St.  Austin’s  great 
work,  the  “City  of  God”  —  and  Tertullian  ude  Came 
Christif  in  which  the  unintelligible  sentence  “  Mor- 
tuus  est  Dei  filius ;  credibile  est  quia  ineptum  est ; 


BERENICE.  173 

et  sepultus  resurrexit ;  cerium  est  quia  impossibile 
est ”  occupied  my  undivided  time,  for  many  weeks  of 
laborious  and  fruitless  investigation. 

Thus  it  will  appear  that,  shaken  from  its  balance 
only  by  trivial  things,  my  reason  bore  resemblance 
to  that  ocean-crag  spoken  of  by  Ptolemy  Hephestion, 
which,  steadily  resisting  the  attacks  of  human  vio¬ 
lence,  and  the  fiercer  fury  of  the  waters  and  the 
winds,  trembled  only  to  the  touch  of  the  flower  called 
Asphodel.  And  although,  to  a  careless  thinker,  it 
might  appear  a  matter  beyond  doubt,  that  the  fearful 
alteration  produced  by  her  unhappy  malady,  in  the 
moral  condition  of  Berenice,  would  afford  me  many 
objects  for  the  exercise  of  that  intense  and  morbid 
meditation  whose  nature  I  have  been  at  some  trouble 
in  explaining,  yet  such  was  not  by  any  means  the 
case.  In  the  lucid  intervals  of  my  infirmity,  her 
calamity  indeed  gave  me  pain,  and,  taking  deeply  to 
heart  that  total  wreck  of  her  fair  and  gentle  life,  I 
did  not  fail  to  ponder  frequently  and  bitterly  upon  the 
wonder-working  means  by  which  so  strange  a  revo¬ 
lution  had  been  so  suddenly  brought  to  pass.  But 
these  reflections  partook  not  of  the  idiosvncrasv  of 
my  disease,  and  were  such  as  would  have  occurred, 
under  similar  circumstances,  to  the  ordinary  mass  of 
mankind.  True  to  its  own  character,  my  disorder 
revelled  in  the  less  important  but  more  startling 
changes  wrought  in  the  physical  frame  of  Berenice, 
and  in  the  singular  and  most  appalling  distortion  of 
her  personal  identity. 

During  the  brightest  days  of  her  unparalleled 


174 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


beauty,  most  surely  I  had  never  loved  her.  In  the 
strange  anomaly  of  my  existence,  feelings,  with  me, 
had  never  been  of  the  heart,  and  my  passions  always 
were  of  the  mind.  Through  the  gray  of  the  early 
morning — among  the  trellissed  shadows  of  the  forest 
at  noon-day  —  and  in  the  silence  of  my  library  at 
night,  she  had  flitted  by  my  eyes,  and  I  had  seen 
her — not  as  the  living  and  breathing  Berenice,  but 
as  the  Berenice  of  a  dream  —  not  as  a  being  of  the 
earth — earthly — but  as  the  abstraction  of  such  a 
being  —  not  as  a  thing  to  admire,  but  to  analyze — ■ 
not  as  an  object  of  love,  but  as  the  theme  of  the  most 
abstruse  although  desultory  speculation.  And  note 
—  now  I  shuddered  in  her  presence,  and  grew  pale 
at  her  approach ;  yet,  bitterly  lamenting  her  fallen 
and  desolate  condition,  I  knew  that  she  had  loved 
me  long,  and,  in  an  evil  moment,  I  spoke  to  her  of 
marriage. 

And  at  length  the  period  of  our  nuptials  was  ap¬ 
proaching,  when,  upon  an  afternoon  in  the  winter  of 
the  year,  one  of  those  unseasonably  warm,  calm,  and 
misty  days  which  are  the  nurse  of  the  beautiful  Hal¬ 
cyon,*  I  sat,  and  sat,  as  I  thought,  alone,  in  the  inner 
apartment  of  the  library.  But  uplifting  my  eyes  Bere¬ 
nice  stood  before  me. 

Was  it  my  own  excited  imagination  —  or  the 
misty  influence  of  the  atmosphere  —  or  the  uncertain 

*  For  as  Jove,  during  the  winter  season,  gives  twice  seven 
days  of  warmth,  men  have  called  this  clement  and  temperate 
time  the  nurse  of  the  beautiful  Halcyon. — Simonides. 


BERENICE. 


175 


twilight  of  the  chamber  —  or  the  gray  draperies 
which  fell  around  her  figure — that  caused  it  to  loom 
up  in  so  unnatural  a  degree  1  I  could  not  tell.  She 
spoke  no  word,  and  I  —  not  for  worlds  could  I  have 
uttered  a  syllable.  An  icy  chill  ran  through  my 
frame  ;  a  sense  of  insufferable  anxiety  oppressed  me  ; 
a  consuming  curiosity  pervaded  my  soul ;  and,  sink¬ 
ing  back  upon  the  chair,  I  remained  for  some  time 
breathless,  and  motionless,  and  with  my  eyes  rivetted 
upon  her  person.  Alas  !  its  emaciation  was  exces¬ 
sive,  and  not  one  vestige  of  the  former  being  lurked 
in  any  single  line  of  the  contour.  My  burning  glances 
at  length  fell  upon  the  face. 

The  forehead  was  high,  and  very  pale,  and  singu¬ 
larly  placid ;  and  the  once  golden  hair  fell  partially 
over  it,  and  overshadowed  the  hollow  temples  with 
ringlets  now  black  as  the  raven’s  wing,  and  jarring 
discordantly,  in  their  fantastic  character,  with  the 
reigning  melancholy  of  the  countenance.  The  eyes 
were  lifeless,  and  lustreless,  and  I  shrunk  involun¬ 
tarily  from  their  glassy  stare  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  thin  and  shrunken  lips.  They  parted :  and  in  a 
smile  of  peculiar  meaning,  the  teeth  of  the  changed 
Berenice  disclosed  themselves  slowly  to  my  view. 
Would  to  God  that  I  had  never  beheld  them,  or  that, 
having  done  so,  I  had  died  ! 

#######* 


The  shutting  of  a  door  disturbed  me,  and,  looking 


176 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


up,  I  found  my  cousin  had  departed  from  the 
ahamber.  But  from  the  disordered  chamber  of  my 
brain,  had  not,  alas  !  departed,  and  would  not  be 
driven  away,  the  white  and  ghastly  spectrum  of  the 
teeth.  Not  a  speck  upon  their  surface  —  not  a  shade 
on  their  enamel  —  not  a  line  in  their  configuration 
—  not  an  indenture  in  their  edges  —  but  what  that 
brief  period  of  her  smile  had  sufficed  to  brand  in 
upon  my  memory.  I  saw  them  now  even  more  un¬ 
equivocally  than  I  beheld  them  then.  The  teeth  !  — 
the  teeth  !  —  they  were  here,  and  there,  and  every 
where,  and  visibly,  and  palpably  before  me,  long, 
narrow,  and  excessively  white,  with  the  pale  lips 
writhing  about  them,  as  in  the  very  moment  of  their 
first  terrible  development.  Then  came  the  full  fury 
of  my  monomania,  and  I  struggled  in  vain  against 
its  strange  and  irresistible  influence.  In  the  mul¬ 
tiplied  objects  of  the  external  world  I  had  no  thoughts 
but  for  the  teeth.  All  other  matters  and  all  different 
interests  became  absorbed  in  their  single  contempla¬ 
tion.  They  —  they  alone  were  present  to  the  mental 
eye,  and  they,  in  their  sole  individuality,  became  the 
essence  of  my  mental  life.  I  held  them  in  every 
light  —  I  turned  them  in  every  attitude.  I  surveyed 
their  characteristics — I  dwelt  upon  their  peculiarities 
■ —  I  pondered  upon  their  conformation  —  I  mused 
upon  the  alteration  in  their  nature  — and  shuddered 
as  I  assigned  to  them  in  imagination  a  sensitive  and 
sentient  power,  and  even  when  unassisted  by  the  lips, 
a  capability  of  moral  expression.  Of  Mad’selle 


BERENICE. 


177 


Salle  it  has  been  said,  “  que  tous  ses  pas  etaient  cles 
sentiments,”  and  of  Berenice  I  more  seriously  believed 
que  tous  ses  dents  etaient  des  idSes. 

And  the  evening  closed  in  upon  me  thus  —  and 
then  the  darkness  came,  and  tarried,  and  went  — 
and  the  day  again  dawned  —  and  the  mists  of  a 
second  night  were  now  gathering  around  —  and  still 
I  sat  motionless  in  that  solitary  room,  and  still  I  sat 
buried  in  meditation,  and  still  the  phantasma  of  the 
teeth  maintained  its  terrible  ascendency  as,  with  the 
most  vivid  and  hideous  distinctness,  it  floated  about 
amid  the  changing  lights  and  shadows  of  the  chamber. 
At  length  there  broke  forcibly  in  upon  my  dreams  a 
wild  cry  as  of  horror  and  dismay ;  and  thereunto, 
after  a  pause,  succeeded  the  sound  of  troubled  voices, 
intermingled  with  many  low  mannings  of  sorrow,  or 
of  pain.  I  arose  hurriedly  from  my  seat,  and,  throw¬ 
ing  open  one  of  the  doors  of  the  library,  saw  standing 
out  in  the  antechamber  a  servant  maiden,  all  in  tears  ; 
and  she  told  me  that  Berenice  was  —  no  more.  Seized 
with  an  epileptic  fit  she  had  fallen  dead  in  the  early 
morning,  and  now,  at  the  closing  in  of  the  night,  the 
grave  was  ready  for  its  tenant,  and  all  the  prepara¬ 
tions  for  the  burial  were  completed. 

With  a  heart  full  of  grief,  yet  reluctantly,  and  op¬ 
pressed  with  awe,  I  made  my  way  to  the  bed-chamber 
of  the  departed.  The  room  was  large,  and  very 
dark,  and  at  every  step  within  its  gloomy  precincts 
I  encountered  the  paraphernalia  of  the  grave.  The 
coffin,  so  a  menial  told  me,  lay  surrounded  by  the 
curtains  of  yonder  bed,  and  in  that  coffin,  he  whisper- 

vol.  ii. — 17 


178 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


ingly  assured  me,  was  all  that  remained  of  Berenice. 
Who  was  it  asked  me  would  I  not  look  upon  the 
corpse  ?  I  had  seen  the  lips  of  no  one  move,  yet  the 
question  had  been  demanded,  and  the  echo  of  the 
syllables  still  lingered  in  the  room.  It  was  impossible 
to  refuse ;  and  with  a  sense  of  suffocation  I  dragged 
myself  to  the  side  of  the  bed.  Gently  I  uplifted  the 
sable  draperies  of  the  curtains.  As  I  let  them  fall 
they  descended  upon  my  shoulders,  and  shutting  me 
thus  out  from  the  living,  enclosed  me  in  the  strictest 
communion  with  the  deceased.  The  very  atmosphere 
was  redolent  of  death.  The  peculiar  smell  of  the 
coffin  sickened  me !  and  I  fancied  a  deleterious  odor 
was  already  exhaling  from  the  body.  I  would  have 
given  worlds  to  escape  —  to  fly  from  the  pernicious 
influence  of  mortality  — to  breathe  once  again  the  pure 
air  of  the  eternal  heavens.  But  I  had  no  longer  the 
power  to  move  —  my  knees  tottered  beneath  me  — 
and  I  remained  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  gazing  upon 
the  frightful  length  of  the  rigid  body  as  it  lay  out¬ 
stretched  in  the  dark  coffin  without  a  lid. 

God  of  heaven! — was  it  possible?  Was  it  my 
brain  that  reeled  —  or  was  it  indeed  the  finger  of  the 
enshrouded  dead  that  stirred  in  the  white  cerement 
that  bound  it?  Frozen  with  unutterable  awe  1  slowly 
raised  my  eyes  to  the  countenance  of  the  corpse. 
There  had  been  a  band  around  the  jaws,  but,  I  know 
not  how,  it  ^Vas  broken  asunder.  The  livid  lips 
were  wreathed  into  a  species  of  smile,  and,  through 
the  enveloping  gloom,  once  again  there  glared  upon 
me  in  too  palpable  reality,  the  white  and  glistening, 


BERENICE. 


179 


and  ghastly  teeth  of  Berenice.  I  sprang  convulsively 
from  the  bed,  and,  uttering  no  word,  rushed  forth  a 
maniac  from  that  apartment  of  triple  horror,  and 
mystery,  and  death. 

I  found  myself  again  sitting  in  the  library,  and 
again  sitting  there  alone.  It  seemed  that  I  had  newly 
awakened  from  a  confused  and  exciting  dream.  I 
knew  that  it  was  now  midnight,  and  I  was  well 
aware  that  since  the  setting  of  the  sun  Berenice  had 
been  interred.  But  of  that  dreary  period  which  had 
intervened  I  had  no  positive,  at  least  no  definite  com¬ 
prehension.  But  its  memory  was  rife  with  horror  — 
horror  more  horrible  from  being  vague,  and  terror 
more  terrible  from  ambiguity.  It  was  a  fearful  page 
in  the  record  of  my  existence,  written  all  over  with 
dim,  and  hideous,  and  unintelligible  recollections.  I 
strived  to  decypher  them,  but  in  vain  —  while  ever 
and  anon,  like  the  spirit  of  a  departed  sound,  the 
shrill  and  piercing  shriek  of  a  female  voice  seemed 
to  be  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  had  done  a  deed  — 
what  was  it?  And  the  echoes  of  the  chamber 
answered  me  “  what  was  it  ?” 

On  the  table  beside  me  burned  a  lamp,  and  near  it 
lay  a  little  box  of  ebony.  It  w;as  a  box  of  no  re¬ 
markable  character,  and  I  had  seen  it  frequently  be¬ 
fore,  it  being  the  property  of  the  family  physician ; 
but  how  came  it  there  upon  my  table,  and  why  did  I 


180 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


shudder  in  regarding  it  ?  These  were  things  in  no 
manner  to  be  accounted  for,  and  my  eyes  at  length 
dropped  to  the  open  pages  of  a  book,  and  to  a 
sentence  underscored  therein.  The  words  were  the 
singular  but  simple  words  of  the  poet  Ebn  Zaiat. 
“  j Dicebant.  mild  societies  si  sepulchrum  amicae  visit- 
arem  curas  meas  aliqucmtulum  fore  levatas .”  Why 
then,  as  I  perused  them,  did  the  hairs  of  my  head 
erect  themselves  on  end,  and  the  blood  of  my  body 
congeal  within  my  veins  1 

There  came  a  light  tap  at  the  library  door,  and, 
pale  as  the  tenant  of  a  tomb,  a  menial  entered  upon 
tiptoe.  His  looks  were  wild  with  terror,  and  he 
spoke  to  me  in  a  voice  tremulous,  husky,  and  very 
low.  What  said  he  1  —  some  broken  sentences  I 
heard.  He  told  of  a  wild  cry  disturbing  the  silence  of 
the  night — of  the  gathering  together  of  the  house¬ 
hold —  of  a  search  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  — 
and  then  his  tones  grew  thrillingly  distinct  as  he 
whispered  me  of  a  violated  grave  —  of  a  disfigured 
body  discovered  upon  its  margin  —  a  body  enshrouded, 
yet  still  breathing,  still  palpitating,  still  alive! 

He  pointed  to  my  garments  —  they  were  muddy 
and  clotted  with  gore.  I  spoke  not,  and  he  took  me 
gently  by  the  hand  —  but  it  was  indented  with  the 
impress  of  human  nails.  He  directed  my  attention  to 
some  object  against  the  wall  —  I  looked  at  it  for  some 
minutes  —  it  was  a  spade.  With  a  shriek  I  bounded 
to  the  table,  and  grasped  the  ebony  box  that  lay  upon 
it.  But  I  could  not  force  it  open,  and  in  my  tremor 


BERENICE. 


181 


it  slipped  from  out  of  my  hands,  and  fell  heavily,  and 
burst  into  pieces ;  and  from  it,  with  a  rattling  sound, 
there  rolled  out  some  instruments  of  dental  surgery, 
intermingled  with  many  white  and  glistening  sub¬ 
stances  that  were  scattered,  to  and  fro  about  the 
floor. 


17* 


c 


. 

I 


, 


THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN. 


183 


WHY  THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN 
WEARS  HIS  HAND  IN  A  SLING. 


It’s  on  my  wisiting  cards  sure  enough  (and  it’s 
them  that’s  all  o’  pink  satin  paper)  that  inny  gintle- 
man  thatplases  may  behould  the  intheristhing  words, 
“  SirPathrickO’Grandison,Barronit,  39  Southampton 
Row,  Russel  Square,  Parrish  o’  Bloomsbury.”  And 
shud  ye  be  wanting  to  diskiver  who  is  the  pink  of 
purliteness  quite,  and  the  laider  of  the  hot  tun  in  the 
houl  city  o’London  —  why  it’s  jist  meself.  And  faith 
that  same  is  no  wonder  at  all  at  all,  so  be  plased  to 
stop  curling  your  nose,  for  every  inch  o’  the  six  wakes 
that  I’ve  been  a  gintleman,  and  left  aff  wid  the  bog- 
throthing  to  take  up  wid  the  Barronissy,  it’s  Pathrick 
that’s  been  living  like  a  houly  imperor,  and  gitting 
the  iddication  and  the  graces.  Och !  and  would’nt  it 
be  a  blessed  thing  for  your  sperrits  if  ye  cud  lay  your 
two  peepers  jist,  upon  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison, 
Barronitt,  when  he  is  all  riddy  drissed  for  the  hop- 
perer,  or  stipping  into  the  Brisky  for  the  drive  into 
the  Hyde  Park.  But  it’s  the  iligant  big  figgur  that  I 
have,  for  the  reason  o’  which  all  the  ladies  fall  in  love 
wid  me.  Isn’t  it  my  own  swate  self  now  that’ll  mis- 


184 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


sure  the  six  fut,  and  the  three  inches  more  nor  that 
in  me  stockings,  and  that  am  excadingly  will  propor¬ 
tioned  all  over  to  match  ?  And  is  it  really  more 
than  the  three  fut  and  a  bit  that  there  is,  inny  how, 
of  the  little  ould  furrener  Frinchman  that  lives  jist  over 
the  way,  and  that’s  a  oggling  and  a  goggling  the  houl 
day,  (and  bad  luck  to  him,)  at  the  purty  widdy  Mis- 
thress  Trade  that’s  my  own  nixt  door  neighbor, 
(God  bliss  her)  and  most  particular  frind  and  ac¬ 
quaintance?  You  percave  the  little  spalpeen  is  sum- 
mat  down  in  the  mouth,  and  wears  his  lift  hand  in  a 
sling ;  and  it’s  for  that  same  thing,  by  yur  lave,  that 
I’m  going  to  give  you  the  good  rason. 

The  thruth  of  the  houl  matter  is  jist  simple  enough  ; 
for  the  very  first  day  that  I  corn’d  from  Connaught, 
and  showd  my  swate  little  silf  in  the  strait  to  the 
widdy,  who  was  looking  through  the  windy,  it  was 
a  gone  case  althegither  wid  the  heart  o’  the  purty 
Misthress  Trade.  I  percaved  it,  ye  see,  all  at  once, 
and  no  mistake,  and  that’s  God’s  thruth.  First  of  all 
it  was  up  wid  the  windy  in  a  jiffy,  and  thin  she  threw 
open  her  two  peepers  to  the  itmost,  and  thin  it  was  a 
little  gould  spy-glass  that  she  clapped  tight  to  one  o’ 
them,  and  divil  may  burn  me  if  it  didn’t  spake  to  me 
as  plain  as  a  peeper  cud  spake,  and  says  it,  through 
the  spy-glass  —  “  Och  !  the  tip  o’  the  mornin  to  ye, 
Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison,  Barronitt,  mavourneen  ; 
and  it’s  a  nate  gintleman  that  ye  are,  sure  enough,  and 
it’s  meself  and  me  fortin  jist  that’ll  be  at  yur  sarvice, 
dear,  inny  time  o’  day  at  all  at  all  for  the  asking.”  And 
it’s  not  meself  ye  wud  have  to  be  bate  in  the  purlite- 


THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN. 


185 


ness;  so  I  made  her  a  bow  that  wud  have  broken  yur 
heart  althegitber  to  behould,  and  thin  I  pulled  afT  me 
hat  with  a  flourish,  and  thin  I  winked  at  her  hard 
wid  both  eyes,  as  much  as  to  say  —  “  Thrue  for  you, 
yer  a  swate  little  crature,  Mrs.  Trade,  me  darlint, 
and  I  wish  I  may  be  drownthed  dead  in  a  bog,  if  its 
not  meself,  SirPathrick  O’Grandison,  Barronitt,  that’ll 
make  a  houl  bushel  o’  love  to  yur  leddy-ship,  in 
the  twinkling  o’  the  eye  of  a  Londonderry  purraty.” 

And  it  was  the  nixt  mornin,  sure  enough,  jist  as  I 
was  making  up  me  mind  whither  it  wouldn’t  be  the 
purlite  thing  to  sind  a  bit  o’  writing  to  the  widdy  by 
way  of  a  love-litter,  when  up  cum’d  the  delivery 
sarvant  wid  an  illigant  card,  and  he  tould  me  that  the 
name  on  it  (for  I  niver  cud  rade  the  copper-plate 
printing  on  account  of  being  lift  handed)  was  all  about 
Mounseer,  the  Count,  A  Goose,  Look-aisy,  Maiter-di- 
dauns,  and  that  the  houl  o’  the  divilish  lingo  was  the 
spalpeeny  long  name  of  the  little  ould  furrener  Frinch- 
man  as  lived  over  the  way. 

And  jist  wid  that  in  cum’d  the  little  willain  himself, 
and  thin  he  made  me  a  broth  of  a  bow,  and  thin  he 
said  he  had  ounly  taken  the  liberty  of  doing  me  the 
honor,  of  the  giving  me  a  call,  and  thin  he  went  on 
to  palaver  at  a  great  rate,  and  divil  the  bit  did  I 
comprehind  what  he  wud  be  afther  the  tilling  me  at 
all  at  all,  excipting  and  saving  that  he  said  “  pully 
wou,  woolly  wou,”  and  tould  me,  among  a  bushel  o’ 
lies,  bad  luck  to  him,  that  he  was  mad  for  the  love 
o’  my  widdy  Misthress  Trade,  and  that  my  widdy 
Mrs.  Trade  had  a  puncheon  for  him. 


186 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


At  the  hearin  of  this,  ye  may  swear,  though,  I  was 
as  mad  as  a  grasshopper,  but  I  remimbered  that  I 
was  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison,  Barronitt,  and  that  it 
wasn’t  althegither  gentaal  to  lit  the  anger  git  the 
upper  hand  o’  the  purliteness,  so  I  made  light  o’  the 
matter  and  kipt  dark,  and  got  quite  sociable  wid  the 
little  chap,  and  afther  a  while  what  did  he  do  but 
ask  me  to  go  wid  him  to  the  widdy’s,  saying  he 
wud  give  me  the  feshionable  introduction  to  her 
leddyship. 

“  Is  it  there  ye  are  ?”  said  I  thin  to  meself  —  “  and 
its  thrue  for  you  Pathrick  that  ye’re  the  fortunnittest 
mortal  in  life.  We’ll  soon  see  now  whither  its  your 
swate  silf,  dear,  or  whither  its  little  Mounseer  Maiter- 
di-dauns,  that  Misthress  Trade  is  head  and  ears  in 
the  love  wid.” 

Wid  that  we  wint  aff  to  the  widdy’s,  next  door, 
and  ye  may  well  say  it  was  an  illigant  place  —  so  it 
was.  There  was  a  carpet  all  over  the  floor,  and  in 
one  corner  there  was  a  forty-pinny  and  a  jews-harp 
and  the  divil  knows  what  ilse,  and  in  another  corner 
was  a  sofy  —  the  beautifullest  thing  in  all  natur  — 
and  sittin  on  the  sofy,  sure  enough  there  was  the 
swate  little  angel,  Misthress  Trade. 

“  The  tip  o’  the  morning  to  ye,”  says  I  —  “  Mrs. 
Trade”  —  and  then  I  made  sich  an  iligant  obaysance 
that  it  wud  ha  quite  althegither  bewildered  the  brain 
o’  ye. 

“  Wully  woo,  pully  woo,  plump  in  the  mud,”  says 
the  little  furrenner  Frinchman  —  “  and  sure  enough 
Mrs.  Trade,  says  he,  that  he  did  —  “  isn’t  this  gin- 


THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN. 


187 


tleman  here  jist  his  riverence  Sir  Pathrick  O’Gran- 
dison,  Barronitt,  and  isn’t  he  althegither  and  entirely 
the  most  particular  frind  and  acquaintance  that  I 
have  in  the  houl  world  V’ 

And  wid  that  the  widdy,  she  gits  up  from  the  sofy, 
and  makes  the  swatest  curtchy  nor  iver  w^as  seen  ; 
and  thin  down  she  gits  agin  like  an  angel ;  and  thin, 
by  the  powers,  it  was  that  little  spalpeen  Mounseer 
Maiter-di-dauns  that  plumped  his  self  right  down  by 
the  right  side  of  her.  Och  hon  !  I  ixpicted  the  two 
eyes  o’  me  wud  ha  cum’d  out  of  my  head  on  the  spot, 
I  was  so  dispirate  mad!  Howiver  —  “  Bait  who  !” 
says  I,  after  a  while.  “  Is  it  there  ye  are,  Mounseer 
Maiter-di-dauns  1”  and  so  down  I  plumped  on  the 
lift  side  of  her  leddyship,  to  be  aven  wid  the  willain. 
Botheration  !  it  wud  ha  done  your  heart  good  to  per- 
cave  the  illigant  double  wink  that  I  gived  her  jist 
thin  right  in  the  face  wid  both  eyes. 

But  the  little  ould  Frinchman  he  niver  beginned 
to  suspict  me  at  all  at  all,  and  disperate  hard  it  was 
he  made  the  love  to  her  leddyship.  “Woully  won” 
says  he  —  “Fully  wou”  says  he — “Plump  in  the 
mud.” 

“That’s  all  to  no  use,  Mounseer  Frog,  mavour- 
neen,”  thinks  I  —  and  I  talked  as  hard  and  as  fast  as 
I  could  all  the  while,  and  troth  it  was  meself  jist  that 
divarted  her  leddyship  complately  and  intirely,  by 
rason  of  the  illigant  conversation  that  I  kipt  up  wid 
her  all  about  the  swate  bogs  of  Connaught.  And  by 
and  by  she  giv’d  me  sieh  a  swate  smile,  from  one 
ind  of  her  mouth  to  the  other,  that  it  made  me  as 


188 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


bould  as  a  pig,  and  I  jist  took  hould  of  the  ind  of  her 
little  finger  in  the  most  dillikittest  manner  in  natur, 
looking  at  her  all  the  while  out  o’  the  whites  of  my 
eyes. 

And  thin  ounly  to  percave  the  cuteness  of  the 
swate  angel,  for  no  sooner  did  she  obsarve  that  I  was 
afther  the  squaring  of  her  flipper,  than  she  up  wid  it 
in  a  jiffy,  and  put  it  away  behind  her  back,  jist  as 
much  as  to  say  —  “  Now  thin,  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandi- 
son,  there’s  a  bitlher  chance  for  ye,  mavourneen,  for 
its  not  althegither  the  gentaal  thing  to  be  afther  the 
squazing  of  my  flipper  right  full  in  the  sight  of  that 
little  furrenner  Frinchman,  Mounseer  Maiter-di- 
dauns.” 

Wid  that  I  giv'd  her  a  big  wink  jist  to  say —  “  lit 
Sir  Pathrick  alone  for  the  likes  o’  them  thricks”  — 
and  thin  I  wint  aisy  to  work,  and  you’d  have  died 
wid  the  divarsion  to  behould  how  cliverly  I  slipped 
my  right  arm  betwane  the  back  o’  the  sofy,  and  the 
back  of  her  leddyship,  and  there,  sure  enough,  I  found 
a  swate  little  flipper  all  a  waiting  to  say —  “  the  tip 
o’  the  mornin  to  ye,  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison, 
Barronit.”  And  wasn’t  it  meself,  sure,  that  jist  giv’d 
the  laste  little  bit  of  a  squaze  in  the  world,  all  in 
the  way  of  a  commincement,  and  not  to  be  too 
rough  wid  her  leddyship?  and  och,  botheration, 
wasn’t  it  the  gentaalest  and  delikittest.  of  all  the  little 
squazes  that  I  got  in  return  ?  “  Blood  and  thunder, 

Sir  Pathrick,  mavourneen”  thinks  I  to  meself,  “  faith 
it’s  jist  the  mother’s  son  of  you,  and  nobody  else  at 
all  at  all,  that’s  the  handsommest  and  the  fortunittest 


THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN. 


189 


young  bogthrotter  that  ever  cum’d  out  of  Connaught !” 
And  wid  that  I  giv’d  the  flipper  a  big  squaze  — 
and  a  big  squaze  it  was,  by  the  powers,  that  her  led- 
dyship  giv’d  to  me  back.  But  it  wud  ha  split  the 
seven  sides  of  you  wid  the  laffin  to  behould,  jist  thin 
all  at  once,  the  concated  behaviour  of  Mounseer 
Maiter-di-dauns.  The  likes  o’  sich  a  jabbering,  and 
a  smirking,  and  a  parly-wouing  as  he  begin’d  wid 
her  leddyship,  niver  was  known  before  upon  arth ; 
and  divil  may  burn  me  if  it  wasn’t  my  own  very  two 
peepers  that  cotch’d  him  tipping  her  the  wink  out  of 
one  eye.  Och  hon !  if  it  wasn’t  meself  thin  that 
was  as  mad  as  a  Kilkenny  cat  I  shud  like  to  be  tould 
who  it  was  ! 

“  Let  me  infarm  you,  Mounseer  Maiter-di-dauns,” 
said  I,  as  purlit  as  iver  ye  seed,  “  that  it’s  not  the 
gintaal  thing  at  all  at  all,  and  not  for  the  likes  o’  you 
inny  how,  to  be  after  the  oggling  and  a  goggling  at 
her  leddyship  in  that  fashion  —  and  jist  wid  that  such 
another  squaze  as  it  was  I  giv’d  her  flipper,  all  as 
much  as  to  say  —  “  isn’t  it  Sir  Pathrick  now,  my 
jewel,  that’ll  be  able  to  the  proticting  o’  you,  my 
darlintP’  —  and  thin  there  cum’d  another  squaze  back, 
all  byway  of  the  answer — “  Thrue  for  you,  Sir 
Pathrick,”  it  said  as  plain  as  iver  a  squaze  said  in  the 
world  —  11  Thrue  for  you,  Sir  Pathrick,  mavourneen, 
and  it’s  a  proper  nate  gintleman  ye  are  —  that  God’s 
thruth”  —  and  wid  that  she  opened  her  two  beautiful 
peepers  till  I  belaved  they  wud  ha  corn’d  out  of  her 
head  althegither  and  intirely,  and  she  looked  first  as 

VOL.  ii. — 18 


190 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


mad  as  a  cat  at  Mounseer  Frog,  and  thin  as  smiling 
as  all  out  o’  doors  at  meself. 

“  Thin,”  says  he,  the  willian,  “  Och  hon  !  and  a 
woolly-won,  pully-wou,”  and  thin  wid  that  he  shoved 
up  his  two  shoulders,  till  the  divil  the  bit  of  his  head 
was  to  be  diskivered,  and  thin  he  let  down  the  two 
corners  of  his  purraty-trap,  and  thin  not  the  bit  more 
of  the  satisfaction  could  I  git  out  o’  the  spalpeen. 

Belave  me,  my  jewel,  it  was  Sir  Pathrick  that  was 
unrasonable  mad  thin,  sure  enough,  and  the  more  by 
token  that  he  kept  on  wid  his  winking  and  blinking 
at  the  widdy  ;  and  the  widdy  she  kept  on  wid  the 
squazing  of  my  flipper,  as  much  as  to  say —  “  At  him 
again  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison,  mavourneen,”  so  I 
jist  ripped  out  wid  a  big  oath,  and  says  I,  sure 
enough — 

“  Ye  little  spalpeeny  frog  of  a  bog-throtting  son  of 
a  bloody-noun !”  —  and  jist  thin  what  d’ye  think  it  was 
that  her  leddyship  did  ?  Troth  she  jumped  up  from 
the  sofy  as  if  she  was  bit,  and  made  aff  through  the 
door,  while  I  turned  my  head  round  afther  her,  in  a 
complate  bewilderment  and  botheration,  and  followed 
her  wid  me  two  peepers.  You  percave  I  had  a  rason 
of  my  own  for  the  knowing  that  she  couldn’t  frit 
down  the  stairs  althegither  and  intirely  —  for  I  knew 
very  well  that  1  had  hould  of  her  hand,  for  divil  the 
bit  had  I  iver  lit  it  go.  And  says  I  — 

“  Isn’t  it  the  laste  little  bit  of  a  mistake  in  the  world 
that  ye’ve  been  afther  the  making,  yer  leddyship  ? 
Come  back  now,  that’s  a  darlint,  and  I’ll  giveyeyur 


THE  LITTLE  FRENCHMAN’. 


191 


flipper.”  But  aff  she  wint  down  the  stairs  like  a  shot, 
and  then  I  turned  round  to  the  little  French  furrenner. 
Och  hon  !  if  it  wasn’t  his  spalpeeny  little  flipper  that 
I  had  hould  of  in  my  own  —  why  thin  —  thin  it  was’nt 
—  that’s  all. 

Maybe  it  wasn’t  rneself  that  jist  died  then  outright 
wid  the  laffin,  to  behould  the  little  chap  when  he  found 
out  that  it  wasn’t  the  widdy  at  all  that  he  had  hould 
of,  but  only  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison.  The  ould 
divil  himself  niver  behild  such  a  long  face  as  he  pet 
on  !  As  for  Sir  Pathrick  O’Grandison,  Barronitt,  it 
wasn’t  for  the  likes  of  his  riverence  to  be  afther  the 
minding  a  thrifle  of  a  mistake.  Ye  may  jist  say, 
though  —  for  its  God’s  thruth  —  that  afore  I  lift  hould 
of  the  flipper  of  the  spalpeen,  (which  was  not  till 
afther  her  leddyship’s  futmen  had  kicked  us  both  down 
the  stairs,)  I  gived  it  such  a  nate  little  broth  of  a 
squaze,  as  made  it  all  up  into  raspberry  jam. 

“  Wouly-wou”  —  says  he  —  “  pully-wou”  —  says 
he  —  “  Cot  tarn  !” 

And  that’s  jist  the  thruth  of  the  rason  why  he  wears 
his  lift  hand  in  a  sling. 


' 

. 


THE  VISIONARY. 


193 


THE  VISIONARY 


Stay  for  me  there  !  I  will  not  fail 
To  meet  thee  in  that  hollow  vale. 

[Exequy  on  the  death  of  his  wife,  by  Henry  King ,  Bishop  of 
Chichester .] 

Ill-fated  and  mysterious  man  !  Bewildered  in  the 
brilliancy  of  thine  own  imagination,  and  fallen  in  the 
flames  of  thine  own  youth  !  Again  in  fancy  I  be¬ 
hold  thee  !  Once  more  thy  form  hath  risen  before 
me  !  —  not  —  oh  not  as  thou  art  —  in  the  cold  valley 
and  shadow  —  but  as  thou  shouldst  be  —  squandering 
away  a  life  of  magnificent  meditation  in  that  city  of 
dim  visions,  thine  own  Venice  —  which  is  a  star  be¬ 
loved  elysium  of  the  sea,  and  the  wide  windows  of 
whose  Palladian  palaces  look  down  w7ith  a  deep  and 
bitter  meaning  upon  the  secrets  of  her  silent  waters. 
Yes  !  I  repeat  it  —  as  thou  shouldst  be.  There  are 
surely  other  worlds  than  this  —  other  thoughts  than 
the  thoughts  of  the  multitude  —  other  speculations 
than  the  speculations  of  the  sophist.  Who  then  shall 
call  thy  conduct  into  question  1  who  blame  thee  for 
18* 


194 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


thy  visionary  hours,  or  denounce  those  occupations 
as  a  wasting  away  of  life,  which  were  but  the  over¬ 
flowings  of  thine  everlasting  energies  ? 

It  was  at  Venice,  beneath  the  covered  archway 
there  called  the  Ponte  di  Sospiri,  that  I  met  for  the 
third  or  fourth  time  the  person  of  whom  I  speak.  It 
is  with  a  confused  recollection  that  I  bring  to  mind 
the  circumstances  of  that  meeting.  Yet  I  remember 
—  ah  !  how  should  I  forget  ?  —  the  deep  midnight, 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  the  beauty  of  woman,  and  the 
demon  of  romance,  who  stalked  up  and  down  the 
narrow  canal. 

It  was  a  night  of  unusual  gloom.  The  great  clock 
of  the  piazza  had  sounded  the  fifth  hour  of  the  Italian 
evening.  The  square  of  the  Campanile  lay  silent  and 
deserted,  and  the  lights  in  the  old  Ducal  Palace  were 
dying  fast  away.  I  was  returning  home  from  the 
Piazetta,  by  way  of  the  Grand  Canal.  But  as  my 
gondola  arrived  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  canal  San 
Marco,  a  female  voice  from  its  recesses  broke  sud¬ 
denly  upon  the  night,  in  one  wild,  hysterical  and  long 
continued  shriek.  Startled  at  the  sound,  I  sprang 
upon  my  feet :  while  the  gondolier,  letting  slip  his 
single  oar,  lost  it  in  the  pitchy  darkness  beyond  a 
chance  of  recovery,  and  we  were  consequently  left 
to  the  guidance  of  the  current  which  here  sets  from 
the  greater  into  the  smaller  channel.  Like  some 
huge  and  sable-feathered  condor,  we  were  slowly 
drifting  down  towards  the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  when  a 
thousand  flambeaux  flashing  from  the  windows,  and 
down  the  staircases  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  turned 


THE  VISIONARY. 


195 


all  at  once  that  deep  gloom  into  a  livid  and  super¬ 
natural  day. 

A  child,  slipping  from  the  arms  of  its  own  mother, 
had  fallen  from  an  upper  window  of  the  lofty  struc¬ 
ture  into  the  deep  and  dim  canal.  The  quiet  waters 
had  closed  placidly  over  their  victim  ;  and,  although 
my  own  gondola  was  the  only  one  in  sight,  many  a 
stout  swimmer,  already  in  the  stream,  was  seeking 
in  vain  upon  the  surface,  the  treasure  which  was  to 
be  found,  alas !  only  within  the  abyss.  Upon  the 
broad  black  marble  flagstones  at  the  entrance  of  the 
palace,  and  a  few  steps  above  the  water,  stood  a 
figure  which  none  who  then  saw  can  have  ever  since 
forgotten.  It  was  the  Marchesa  Aphrodite  —  the 
adoration  of  all  Venice — the  gayest  of  the  gay  — 
the  most  lovely  where  all  were  beautiful  —  but  still 
the  young  wife  of  the  old  and  intriguing  Mentoni  — 
and  the  mother  of  that  fair  child,  her  first  and  only 
one,  who  now  deep  beneath  the  murky  water,  was 
thinking  in  bitterness  of  heart  upon  her  sweet  cares 
ses,  and  exhausting  its  little  life  in  struggles  to  call 
upon  her  name. 

She  stood  alone.  Her  small,  bare,  and  silvery  feet 
gleamed  in  the  black  mirror  of  marble  beneath  her. 
Her  hair,  not  as  yet  more  than  half  loosened  for  the 
night  from  its  ball-room  array,  clustered  amid  a 
shower  of  diamonds,  round  and  round  her  classical 
head,  in  curls  like  the  young  hyacinth.  A  snowy- 
white  and  gauze-like  drapery  seemed  to  be  nearly 
the  sole  covering  to  her  delicate  form  —  but  the  mid- 


196 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


summer  and  midnight  air  was  hot,  sullen,  and  still, 
and  no  motion  —  no  shadow  of  motion  in  the  statue¬ 
like  form  itself,  stirred  even  the  folds  of  that  raiment 
of  very  vapor  which  hung  around  it  as  the  heavy 
marble  hangs  around  the  Niobe.  Yet — strange  to 
say  !  —  her  large  lustrous  eyes  were  not  turned  down¬ 
wards  upon  that  grave  wherein  her  brightest  hope  lay 
buried  —  but  riveted  in  a  widely  different  direction  ! 
The  prison  of  the  Old  Republic  is,  I  think,  the  state¬ 
liest  building  in  all  Venice  —  but  how  could  that 
lady  gaze  so  fixedly  upon  it,  when  beneath  her  lay 
stifling  her  only  child  ?  Yon  dark,  gloomy  niche,  too, 
yawns  right  opposite  her  chamber  window  —  what, 
then,  could  there  be  in  its  shadows —  in  its  architec¬ 
ture —  in  its  ivy-wreathed  and  solemn  cornices  that 
the  Marchesa  di  Mentoni  had  not  wondered  at  a 
thousand  times  before  ?  Nonsense  !  Who  does  not 
remember  that,  at  such  a  time  as  this,  the  eye,  like  a 
shattered  mirror,  multiplies  the  images  of  its  sorrow, 
and  sees  in  innumerable  far  off  places,  the  wo  which 
is  close  at  hand. 

Many  steps  above  the  Marchesa,  and  within  the 
arch  of  the  water-gate,  stood  in  full  dress,  the  Satyr¬ 
like  figure  of  Mentoni  himself.  He  was  occasionally 
occupied  in  thrumming  a  guitar,  and  seemed  ennuied 
to  the  very  death,  as  at  intervals  he  gave  directions 
for  the  recovery  of  his  child.  Stupified  and  aghast, 
I  had  myself  no  power  to  move  from  the  upright 
position  I  had  assumed  upon  first  hearing  the  shriek, 
and  must  have  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  agitated 


THE  VISIONARY. 


197 


group,  a  spectral  and  ominous  appearance,  as,  with 
pale  countenance  and  rigid  limbs,  I  floated  down 
among  them  in  that  funereal  gondola. 

All  efforts  proved  in  vain.  Many  of  the  most 
energetic  in  the  search  were  relaxing  their  exertions, 
and  yielding  to  a  gloomy  sorrow.  There  seemed  but 
little  hope  for  the  child  —  but  now,  from  the  interior 
of  that  dark  niche  which  has  been  already  mentioned 
as  forming  a  part  of  the  Old  Republican  prison,  and 
as  fronting  the  lattice  of  the  Marchesa,  a  figure, 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  stepped  out  within  reach  of  the 
light,  and,  pausing  a  moment  upon  the  verge  of  the 
giddy  descent,  plunged  headlong  into  the  canal.  As, 
in  an  instant  afterwards,  he  stood  with  the  still  living 
and  breathing  child  within  his  grasp,  upon  the  marble 
flagstones  by  the  side  of  the  Marchesa,  his  cloak, 
heavy  with  the  drenching  water,  became  unfastened, 
and,  falling  in  folds  about  his  feet,  discovered  to  the 
wmnder-stricken  spectators,  the  graceful  person  of  a 
very  young  man,  with  the  sound  of  whose  name  the 
greater  part  of  Europe  was  then  ringing. 

No  word  spoke  the  deliverer.  But  the  Marchesa  f 
She  will  now  receive  her  child  —  she  will  press  it  to 
her  heart  —  she  will  cling  to  its  little  form,  and 
smother  it  with  her  caresses.  Alas!  another's  arms 
have  taken  it  from  the  stranger  —  ariother's  arms 
have  taken  it  away,  and  borne  it  afar  off,  unnoticed, 
into  the  palace!  And  the  Marchesa!  Her  lip  — 
her  beautiful  lip  trembles  :  tears  are  gathering  in  her 
eyes  —  those  eyes  which,  like  Pliny’s  own  Acanthus, 
are  “  soft  and  almost  liquid.”  Yes!  tears  are  gather- 


198 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


ing  in  those  eyes  —  and  see  !  the  entire  woman  thrills 
throughout  the  soul,  and  the  statue  has  started  into 
life !  The  pallor  of  the  marble  countenance,  the 
swelling  of  the  marble  bosom,  the  very  purity  of  the 
marble  feet,  we  behold  suddenly  flushed  over  with  a 
tide  of  ungovernable  crimson ;  and  a  slight  shudder 
quivers  about  her  delicate  frame,  as  a  gentle  air  at 
Napoli  about  the  rich  silver  lilies  in  the  grass.  Why 
should  that  lady  blush?  To  this  demand  there  is  no 
answer  —  except  that,  having  left  in  the  eager  haste 
and  terror  of  a  mother’s  heart,  the  privacy  of  her 
own  boudoir,  she  has  neglected  to  enthral  her  tiny 
feet  in  their  slippers,  and  utterly  forgotten  to  throw 
over  her  Venitian  shoulders  that  drapery  which  is 
their  due.  What  other  possible  reason  could  there 
have  been  for  her  so  blushing  ?  —  for  the  glance  of 
those  wild  appealing  eyes  ?  —  for  the  unusual  tumult 
of  that  throbbing  bosom  ?  —  for  the  convulsive  pressure 
of  that  trembling  hand?  —  that  hand  which  fell,  as 
Mentoni  turned  into  the  palace,  accidentally,  upon 
the  hand  of  the  stranger.  What  reason  could  there 
have  been  for  the  low  —  the  singularly  low  tone  of 
those  unmeaning  words  which  the  lady  uttered  hur¬ 
riedly  in  bidding  him  adieu?  “Thou  hast  con¬ 
quered  ”  —  she  said,  or  the  murmurs  of  the  water 
deceived  me  —  “  thou  hast  conquered  —  one  hour 
after  sunrise  —  we  shall  meet  —  so  let  it  be.” 

###### 


The  tumult  had  subsided,  the  lights  had  died  away 


THE  VISIONARY. 


199 


within  the  palace,  and  the  stranger,  whom  I  now 
recognised,  stood  alone  upon  the  flags.  He  shook 
with  inconceivable  agitation,  and  his  eye  glanced 
around  in  search  of  a  gondola.  I  could  not  do  less 
than  offer  him  the  service  of  my  own  ;  and  he  ac¬ 
cepted  the  civility.  Having  obtained  an  oar  at  the 
water-gate,  we  proceeded  together  to  his  residence, 
while  he  rapidly  recovered  his  self-possession,  and 
spoke  of  our  former  slight  acquaintance  in  terms  of 
great  apparent  cordiality. 

There  are  some  subjects  upon  which  I  take  pleasure 
in  being  minute.  The  person  of  the  stranger — let 
me  call  him  by  this  title,  who  to  all  the  world  was 
still  a  stranger  —  the  person  of  the  stranger  is  one 
of  these  subjects.  In  height  he  might  have  been 
below  rather  than  above  the  medium  size :  although 
there  were  moments  of  intense  passion  when  his 
frame  actually  expanded  and  belied  the  assertion. 
The  light,  almost  slender  symmetry  of  his  figure, 
promised  more  of  that  ready  activity  which  he 
evinced  at  the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  than  of  that  Her¬ 
culean  strength  which  he  has  been  known  to  wield 
without  an  effort,  upon  occasions  of  more  dangerous 
emergency.  With  the  mouth  and  chin  of  a  deity  — 
singular,  wild,  full,  liquid  eyes,  whose  shadows  varied 
from  pure  hazel  to  intense  and  brilliant  jet  —  and  a 
profusion  of  glossy,  black  hair,  from  which  a  fore¬ 
head,  rather  low  than  otherwise,  gleamed  forth  at 
intervals  all  light  and  ivory — his  were  features  than 
which  I  have  seen  none  more  classically  regular, 
except,  perhaps,  the  marble  ones  of  the  Emperor 


200 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


Commodus.  Yet  his  countenance  was,  nevertheless, 
one  of  those  which  all  men  have  seen  at  some  period 
of  their  lives,  and  have  never  afterwards  seen  again. 
It  had  no  peculiar  —  I  wish  to  be  perfectly  under¬ 
stood  —  it  had  no  settled  predominant  expression  to 
be  fastened  upon  the  memory;  a  countenance  seen 
and  instantly  forgotten  — but  forgotten  with  a  vague 
and  never-ceasing  desire  of  recalling  it  to  mind.  Not 
that  the  spirit  of  each  rapid  passion  failed,  at  any 
time,  to  throw  its  own  distinct  image  upon  the  mirror 
of  that  face  —  but  that  the  mirror,  mirror-like,  re¬ 
tained  no  vestige  of  the  passion,  when  the  passion 
had  departed. 

Upon  leaving  him  on  the  night  of  our  adventure, 
he  solicited  me,  in  what  I  thought  an  urgent  manner, 
to  call  upon  him  very  early  the  next  morning.  Shortly 
after  sunrise,  I  found  myself  accordingly  at  his 
Palazzo,  one  of  those  huge  piles  of  gloomy,  yet  fan¬ 
tastic  grandeur,  which  tower  above  the  waters  of  the 
Grand  Canal  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Rialto.  I  was 
shown  up  a  broad  winding  staircase  of  mosaics,  into 
an  apartment  whose  unparalleled  splendor  burst 
through  the  opening  door  with  an  actual  glare, 
making  me  sick  and  dizzy  with  luxuriousness. 

I  knew  my  acquaintance  to  be  wealthy.  Report 
had  spoken  of  his  possessions  in  terms  which  I  had 
even  ventured  to  call  terms  of  ridiculous  exaggeration. 
But  as  I  gazed  about  me,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
believe  that  the  wealth  of  any  subject  in  Europe  could 
have  supplied  the  far  more  than  imperial  magnifi¬ 
cence  which  burned  and  blazed  around. 


THE  VISIONARY. 


201 


Although,  as  I  say,  the  sun  had  arisen,  yet  the 
room  was  still  brilliantly  lighted  up.  I  judged  from 
this  circumstance,  as  well  as  from  an  air  of  exhaustion 
in  the  countenance  of  mv  friend,  that  he  had  not  re- 
tired  to  bed  during  the  whole  of  the  preceding  night. 
In  the  architecture  and  embellishments  of  the  cham¬ 
ber,  the  evident  design  had  been  to  dazzle  and  astound. 
Little  attention  had  been  paid  to  the  decora  of  what 
is  technically  called  keeping,  or  to  the  proprieties  of 
nationality.  The  eye  wandered  from  object  to  ob¬ 
ject,  and  rested  upon  none  —  neither  the  grotesques 
of  the  Greek  painters  —  nor  the  sculptures  of  the 
best  Italian  days  —  nor  the  huge  carvings  of  un¬ 
tutored  Egypt.  Rich  draperies  in  every  part  of  the 
room  trembled  to  the  vibration  of  low,  melancholy 
music,  whose  unseen  origin  undoubtedly  lay  in  the 
recesses  of  the  crimson  trelliss  work  which  tapestried 
the  ceiling.  The  senses  were  oppressed  by  mingled 
and  conflicting  perfumes,  reeking  up  from  strange 
convolute  censers,  which  seemed  actually  endued 
with  a  monstrous  vitality,  as  their  particolored  fires 
writhed  up  and  down,  and  around  about  their  extra¬ 
vagant  proportions.  The  rays  of  the  newly  risen  sun 
poured  in  upon  the  w'hole,  through  windows  formed 
each  of  a  single  pane  of  crimson-tinted  glass.  Glanc¬ 
ing  to  and  fro,  in  a  thousand  reflections,  from  curtains 
which  rolled  from  their  cornices  like  cataracts  of 
molten  silver,  the  beams  of  natural  glory  mingled  at 
length  fitfully  with  the  artificial  light,  and  lay  weltering 
in  subdued  masses  upon  a  carpet  of  rich,  liquid  looking 
vol.  ii. — 19 


202 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


cloth  of  Chili  gold.  Here  then  had  the  hand  of  genius 
been  at  work.  A  chaos  —  a  wilderness  of  beauty 
lay  before  me.  A  sense  of  dreamy  and  incoherent 
grandeur  took  possession  of  my  soul,  and  I  remained 
within  the  door-way  speechless. 

Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  —  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  —  laughed  the  pro¬ 
prietor,  motioning  me  to  a  seat,  and  throwing  himself 
back  at  full  length  upon  an  ottoman.  “  I  see,”  said 
he,  perceiving  that  I  could  not  immediately  reconcile 
myself  to  the  bienseance  of  so  singular  a  welcome  — 
“  I  see  you  are  astonished  at  my  apartment  —  at  my 
statues  —  my  pictures  —  my  originality  of  conception 
in  architecture  and  upholstery  —  absolutely  drunk, 
eh  1  with  my  magnificence.  But  pardon  me,  my  dear 
sir,  (here  his  tone  of  voice  dropped  to  the  very  spirit 
of  cordiality,)  pardon  me,  my  dear  sir,  for  my  un¬ 
charitable  laughter.  You  appeared  so  utterly  aston¬ 
ished.  Besides,  some  things  are  so  completely 
ludicrous  that  a  man  must  laugh  or  die.  To  die 
laughing  must  be  the  most  glorious  of  all  glorious 
deaths !  Sir  Thomas  More  —  a  very  fine  man  was  Sir 
Thomas  More  —  Sir  Thomas  More  died  laughing,  you 
remember.  Also  there  is  a  long  list  of  characters  who 
came  to  the  same  magnificent  end,  in  the  Absurdities 
of  Ravisius  Textor.  Do  you  know,  however,”  con¬ 
tinued  he  musingly  —  “  that  at  Sparta  (which  is  now 
Palaeochori),  at  Sparta,  I  say,  to  the  west  of  the 
citadel,  among  a  chaos  of  scarcely  visible  ruins,  is  a 
kind  of  socle  upon  which  are  still  legible  the  letters 
aasm.  They  are  undoubtedly  part  of  teaahma.  Now 
at  Sparta  were  a  thousand  temples  and  shrines  to  a 


THE  VISIONARY. 


203 


thousand  different  divinities.  How  exceedingly 
strange  that  the  altar  of  Laughter  should  have  sur¬ 
vived  all  the  others  !  But  in  the  present  instance” 
—  he  resumed,  with  a  singular  alteration  of  voice  and 
manner  —  “  in  the  present  instance  I  have  no  right  to 
be  merry  at  your  expense.  You  might  well  have 
been  amazed.  Europe  cannot  produce  anything  so 
fine  as  this,  my  little  regal  cabinet.  My  other  apart¬ 
ments  are  by  no  means  of  the  same  order  —  mere 
ultras  of  fashionable  insipidity.  This  is  better  than 
fashion  —  is  it  not?  Yet  this  has  but  to  be  seen  to 
become  the  rage  —  that  is  with  those  who  could  afford 
it  at  the  cost  of  their  entire  patrimony.  I  have 
guarded,  however,  against  any  such  profanation. 
With  one  exception  you  are  the  only  human  being 
besides  myself,  who  has  been  admitted  within  the 
mysteries  of  these  imperial  precincts.” 

I  bowed  in  acknowledgment:  for  the  overpowering 
sense  of  splendor  and  perfume,  and  music,  together 
with  the  unexpected  eccentricity  of  his  address  and 
manner,  prevented  me  from  expressing  in  words  my 
appreciation  of  what  I  might  have  construed  into  a 
compliment. 

“  Here”  —  he  resumed,  arising  and  leaning  on  my 
arm  as  he  sauntered  around  the  apartment — “  here 
are  paintings  from  the  Greeks  to  Cimabue,  and  from 
Cimabue  to  the  present  hour.  Many  are  chosen,  as 
you  see,  with  little  deference  to  the  opinions  of  Virtu. 
They  are  all,  however,  fitting  tapestry  for  a  chamber 
such  as  this.  Here  too,  are  some  chef  cTceuvres  of 


204 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  unknown  great  —  and  here  unfinished  designs  by 
men,  celebrated  in  their  day,  whose  very  names  the 
perspicacity  of  the  academies  has  left  to  silence 
and  to  me.  What  think  you”  —  said  he,  turning 
abruptly  as  he  spoke  —  “  what  think  you  of  this 
Madonna  della  Pieta? 

“  It  is  Guido’s  own  1”  I  said,  with  all  the  enthusiasm 
of  my  nature,  for  I  had  been  poring  intently  over  its 
surpassing  loveliness.  “  It  is  Guido’s  own  !  —  how' 
could  you  have  obtained  it?  —  she  is  undoubtedly  in 
painting  what  the  Venus  is  in  sculpture.” 

“  Ha  !”  said  he  thoughtfully,  “  the  Venus  ?  —  the 
beautiful  Venus  ?  —  the  Venus  of  the  Medici  ?  —  she 
of  the  gilded  hair?  Part  of  the  left  arm  (here  his 
voice  dropped  so  as  to  be  heard  with  difficulty),  and 
all  the  right  are  restorations,  and  in  the  coquetry  of 
that  right  arm  lies,  I  think,  the  quintessence  of  all 
affectation.  The  Apollo,  too!  —  is  a  copy — there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  it — blind  fool  that  I  am,  who 
cannot  behold  the  boasted  inspiration  of  the  Apollo  ! 
I  cannot  help  —  pity  me  !  —  I  cannot  help  preferring 
the  Antinous.  Was  it  not  Socrates  who  said  that  the 
statuary  found  his  statue  in  the  block  of  marble? 
Then  Michael  Angelo  was  by  no  means  original  in 
his  couplet  — 

‘  Non  ha  l’ottimo  artista  alcun  concetto 
Che  un  marmo  solo  in  se  non  circunscriva.’  ” 

###*#### 


THE  VISIONARY. 


205 


It  has  been,  or  should  be  remarked,  that,  in  the 
manner  of  the  true  gentleman,  we  are  always  aware 
of  a  difference  from  the  bearing  of  the  vulgar,  with¬ 
out  being  at  once  precisely  able  to  determine  in  what 
such  difference  consists.  Allowing  the  remark  to 
have  applied  in  its  full  force  to  the  outward  demeanor 
of  my  acquaintance,  I  felt  it,  on  that  eventful  morn¬ 
ing,  still  more  fully  applicable  to  his  moral  tempera¬ 
ment  and  character.  Nor  can  I  better  define  that 
peculiarity  of  spirit  which  seemed  to  place  him  so  es¬ 
sentially  apart  from  all  other  human  beings,  than  by 
calling  it  a  habit  of  intense  and  continual  thought, 
pervading  even  his  most  trivial  actions — intruding 
upon  his  moments  of  dalliance  —  and  interweaving 
itself  with  his  very  flashes  of  merriment  —  like  adders 
which  writhe  from  out  the  eyes  of  the  grinning  masks 
in  the  cornices  around  the  temples  of  Persepolis. 

1  could  not  help,  however,  repeatedly  observing, 
through  the  mingled  tone  of  levity  and  solemnity 
with  which  he  rapidly  descanted  upon  matters  of 
little  importance,  a  certain  air  of  trepidation  —  a  de¬ 
gree  of  nervous  unction  in  action  and  in  speech  —  an 
unquiet  excitability  of  manner  which  appeared  to  me 
at  all  times  unaccountable,  and  upon  some  occasions 
even  filled  me  with  alarm.  Frequently,  too,  pausing 
in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  whose  commencement  he 
had  apparently  forgotten,  he  seemed  to  be  listening  in 
the  deepest  attention,  as  if  either  in  momentary  ex¬ 
pectation  of  a  visiter,  or  to  sounds  which  must  have 
had  existence  in  his  imagination  alone. 

19* 


206 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


It  was  during  one  of  these  reveries  or  pauses  of  ap¬ 
parent  abstraction,  that,  in  turning  over  a  page  of  the 
poet  and  scholar  Politian’s  beautiful  tragedy  “  The 
Orfeo,”  (the  first  native  Italian  tragedy,)  which  lay 
near  me  upon  an  ottoman,  I  discovered  a  passage 
underlined  in  pencil.  It  was  a  passage  towards  the 
end  of  the  third  act —  a  passage  of  the  most  heart¬ 
stirring  excitement  —  a  passage  which,  although 
tainted  with  impurity,  no  man  shall  read  without  a 
thrill  of  novel  emotion  —  no  woman  without  a 
sigh.  The  whole  page  was  blotted  with  fresh  tears, 
and,  upon  the  opposite  interleaf,  were  the  following 
lines,  written  in  a  hand  so  very  different  from  the  pe¬ 
culiar  characters  of  my  acquaintance,  that  I  had 
some  difficulty  in  recognising  it  as  his  own. 


Thou  wast  that  all  to  me,  love, 

For  which  my  soul  did  pine  — 

A  green  isle  in  the  sea,  love, 

A  fountain  and  a  shrine, 

All  wreathed  around  about  with  flowers; 
And  the  flowers  —  they  all  were  mine. 


But  the  dream  —  it  could  not  last; 

And  the  star  of  Hope  did  rise 
But  to  be  overcast. 

A  voice  from  out  the  Future  cries 
“  Onward  !”  —  while  o’er  the  Past 
(Dim  gulf!)  my  spirit  hovering  lies, 
Mute,  motionless,  aghast ! 


THE  VISIONARY. 


207 


For  alas  !  —  alas  !  —  with  me 
Ambition — all — is  o’er. 

“No  more  —  no  more  —  no  more,” 

(Such  language  holds  the  solemn  sea 
To  the  sands  upon  the  shore,) 

Shall  bloom  the  thunder-blasted  tree, 

Or  the  stricken  eagle  soar  ! 

And  all  my  hours  are  trances; 

And  all  my  nightly  dreams 
Are  where  thy  dark  eye  glances, 

And  where  thy  footstep  gleams, 

In  what  ethereal  dances, 

By  what  Italian  streams. 

Alas  !  for  that  accursed  time 
They  bore  thee  o’er  the  billow, 

From  Love  to  titled  age  and  crime, 

And  an  unholy  pillow  — 

From  me,  and  from  our  misty  clime, 

Where  weeps  the  silver  willow. 

That  these  lines  were  written  in  English  —  a  lan¬ 
guage  with  which  I  had  not  believed  their  author 
acquainted — afforded  me  little  matter  for  surprise. 
I  was  too  well  aware  of  the  extent  of  his  acquirements, 
and  of  the  singular  pleasure  he  took  in  concealing 
them  from  observation,  to  be  astonished  at  any  similar 
discovery  ;  but  the  place  of  date,  I  must  confess, 
occasioned  me  no  little  amazement.  It  had  been 
originally  written  London ,  and  afterwards  carefully 
overscored  —  but  not,  however,  so  effectually,  as  to 
conceal  the  word  from  a  scrutinizing  eye.  I  say 
this  occasioned  me  no  little  amazement ;  for  I  well 


208 


GROTESQUE  AN'D  ARABESQUE. 


remember  that,  in  a  former  conversation  with  my 
friend,  I  particularly  inquired  if  he  had  at  any  time 
met  in  London  the  Marchesa  di  Mentoni,  (who  for 
some  years  previous  to  her  marriage  had  resided  in 
that  city,)  wrhen  his  answer,  if  I  mistake  not,  gave 
me  to  understand  that  he  had  never  visited  the 
metropolis  of  Great  Britain.  I  might  as  well  here 
mention,  that  I  have  more  than  once  heard,  (without 
of  course  giving  credit  to  a  report  involving  so  many 
improbabilities,)  that  the  person  of  whom  I  speak  was 
not  only  by  birth,  but  in  education  an  Englishman. 

"A'  "A*  ~fv-  "7r-  "A*  'VT*  "/T 

“  There  is  one  painting,”  said  he,  without  being 
aware  of  my  notice  of  the  tragedy  —  “  there  is  still 
one  painting  which  you  have  not  seen.”  And  throw¬ 
ing  aside  a  drapery,  he  discovered  a  full  length  por¬ 
trait  of  the  Marchesa  Aphrodite. 

Human  art  could  have  done  no  more  in  the  delinea¬ 
tion  of  her  superhuman  beauty.  The  same  ethereal 
figure  which  stood  before  me  the  preceding  night 
upon  the  steps  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  stood  before  me 
once  again.  But  in  the  expression  of  the  countenance, 
which  was  beaming  all  over  with  smiles,  there  still 
lurked  (incomprehensible  anomaly !)  that  fitful  stain 
of  melancholy  which  will  ever  be  found  inseparable 
from  the  perfection  of  the  beautiful.  Her  right  arm 
lay  folded  over  her  bosom.  With  her  left  she  pointed 
downwards  to  a  curiously  fashioned  vase.  One  small, 
fairy  foot,  alone  visible,  barely  touched  the  earth  — 


THE  VISIONARY. 


209 


and,  scarcely  discernible  in  the  brilliant  atmosphere 
which  seemed  to  encircle  and  enshrine  her  loveliness, 
floated  a  pair  of  the  most  delicately  imagined  wings. 
My  glance  fell  from  the  painting  to  the  figure  of  my 
friend,  and  the  vigorous  words  of  Chapman’s  Bussy 
D'Ambois  quivered  instinctively  upon  my  lips  — 


“  He  is  up 

There  like  a  Roman  statue  !  He  will  stand 
Till  Death  hath  made  him  marble !” 

“Come!”  he  said  at  length,  turning  towards  a 
table  of  richly  enamelled  and  massive  silver,  upon 
which  were  a  few  goblets  fantastically  stained,  to¬ 
gether  with  two  large  Etruscan  vases,  fashioned  in 
the  same  extraordinary  model  as  that  in  the  fore¬ 
ground  of  the  portrait,  and  filled  with  what  I  sup¬ 
posed  to  be  Johannisberger.  “Come!”  he  said  ab¬ 
ruptly,  “  let  us  drink  !  It  is  early  —  but  let  us 
drink  —  It  is  indeed  early,”  he  continued  thought¬ 
fully  as  a  cherub  with  a  heavy  golden  hammer, 
made  the  apartment  ring  with  the  first  hour  after 
sunrise  —  “  It  is  indeed  early,  but  what  matters  it  1 
let  us  drink  !  Let  us  pour  out  an  offering  to  the 
solemn  sun,  which  these  gaudy  lamps  and  censers 
are  so  eager  to  subdue !”  And,  having  made  me 
pledge  him  in  a  bumper,  he  swallowed  in  rapid  suc¬ 
cession  several  goblets  of  the  wine. 

“  To  dream,”  he  continued,  resuming  the  tone  of 
his  desultory  conversation,  as  he  held  up  to  the  rich 


210 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


light  of  a  censer  one  of  the  magnificent  vases  — “  to 
dream  has  been  the  business  of  my  life.  I  have  there¬ 
fore  framed  for  myself,  as  you  see,  a  bower  of  dreams. 
In  the  heart  of  Venice  could  I  have  erected  a  better? 
You  behold  around  you,  it  is  true,  a  medley  of  ar¬ 
chitectural  embellishments.  The  chastitvof  Ionia  is 
offended  by  antediluvian  devices,  and  the  sphynxes 
of  Egypt  are  stretching  upon  carpets  of  gold.  Yet 
the  effect  is  incongruous  to  the  timid  alone.  Pro¬ 
prieties  of  place,  and  especially  of  time,  are  the  bug¬ 
bears  which  terrify  mankind  from  the  contemplation 
of  the  magnificent.  Once  I  was  myself  a  decorist: 
but  that  sublimation  of  folly  has  palled  upon  my  soul. 
All  this  is  now  the  fitter  for  my  purpose.  Like  these 
arabesque  censers,  my  spirit  is  writhing  in  fire,  and 
the  delirium  of  this  scene  is  fashioning  me  for  the 
wilder  visions  of  that  land  of  real  dreams  whither  I 
am  now  rapidly  departing.”  Thus  saying,  he  con¬ 
fessed  the  power  of  the  wine,  and  threw  himself  at 
full  length  upon  an  ottoman. 

A  quick  step  was  now  heard  upon  the  staircase, 
and  a  loud  knock  at  the  door  rapidly  succeeded.  I 
was  hastening  to  anticipate  a  second  disturbance, 
when  a  page  of  Mentoni’s  household  burst  into  the 
room,  and  faltered  out,  in  a  voice  choking  with  emo¬ 
tion,  the  incoherent  words,  “  My  mistress  !  —  my 
mistress  1  —  poisoned  !  —  poisoned  !  Oh  beautiful  — 
oh  beautiful  Aphrodite  !” 

Bewildered,  I  flew  to  the  ottoman,  and  endeavored 
to  arouse  the  sleeper  to  a  sense  of  the  startling  intel- 


THE  VISIONARY. 


211 


ligence.  But  his  limbs  were  rigid  —  his  lips  were 
livid  —  his  lately  beaming  eyes  were  riveted  in  death. 
I  staggered  back  towards  the  table  —  my  hand  fell 
upon  a  cracked  and  blackened  goblet  —  and  a  con¬ 
sciousness  of  the  entire  and  terrible  truth  flashed  sud¬ 
denly  over  my  soul. 


* 


■ 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


213 


THE  CONVERSATION 


OF 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


EIROS. 

Why  do  you  call  me  Eiros? 


CHARMION. 

So  henceforward  will  you  always  be  called.  You 
must  forget,  too,  my  earthly  name,  and  speak  to  me 
as  Charmion. 


EIROS. 

This  is  indeed  no  dream  ! 

CHARMION. 

Dreams  are  with  us  no  more  —  but  of  these  mys¬ 
teries  anon.  I  rejoice  to  see  you  looking  life-like 
and  rational.  The  film  of  the  shadow  has  already 
passed  from  off  your  eyes.  Be  of  heart,  and  fear 
nothing.  Your  allotted  days  of  stupor  have  expired; 
and,  to-morrow,  I  will  myself  induct  you  into  the 
full  joys  and  wonders  of  your  novel  existence. 

vol.  ii. — 20 


214 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


EIROS. 

True  —  1  feel  no  stupor  —  none  at  all.  The  wild 
sickness  and  the  terrible  darkness  have  left  me,  and 
I  hear  no  longer  that  mad,  rushing,  horrible  sound, 
like  the  “  voice  of  many  waters.”  Yet  my  senses 
are  bewildered,  Charmion,  with  the  keenness  of  their 
perception  of  the  new. 

CHARMION. 

A  few  days  will  remove  all  this  —  but  I  fully  un¬ 
derstand  you,  and  feel  for  you.  It  is  now  ten  earthly 
years  since  I  underwent  what  you  undergo  —  yet 
the  remembrance  of  it  hangs  by  me  still.  You  have 
now  suffered  all  of  pain,  however,  which  you  will 
suffer  in  Aidenn. 


In  Aidenn  ? 


EIROS. 


In  Aidenn. 


CHARMION. 


EIROS. 

Oh  God  !  —  pity  me,  Charmion  !  —  I  am  over- 
burthened  with  the  majesty  of  all  things  —  of  the 
unknown  now  known  —  of  the  speculative  Future 
merged  in  the  august  and  certain  Present. 

CHARMION. 

Grapple  not  now  with  such  thoughts.  To-morrow 
we  will  speak  of  this.  Your  mind  wavers,  and  its 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


215 


agitation  will  find  relief  in  the  exercise  of  simple 
memories.  Look  not  around,  nor  forward  —  but 
back.  I  am  burning  with  anxiety  to  hear  the  details 
of  that  stupendous  event  which  threw  you  among  us. 
Tell  me  of  it.  Let  us  converse  of  familiar  things,  in 
the  old  familiar  language  of  the  world  which  has  so 
fearfully  perished. 


EIROS. 

Most  fearfully,  fearfully  !  —  this  is  indeed  no 
dream. 


CHARMION. 

Dreams  are  no  more.  Was  I  much  mourned,  my 
Eiros  1 

EIROS. 

Mourned,  Charmion  ?  —  oh  deeply.  To  that  last 
hour  of  all  there  hung  a  cloud  of  intense  gloom  and 
devout  sorrow  over  your  household. 


CHARMION. 

And  that  last  hour  —  speak  of  it.  Remember 
that,  beyond  the  naked  fact  of  the  catastrophe  itself, 
I  know  nothing.  When,  coming  out  from  among 
mankind,  I  passed  into  Night  through  the  Grave  — 
at  that  period,  if  I  remember  aright,  the  calamity 
which  overwhelmed  you  was  utterly  unanticipated. 
But,  indeed,  I  knew  little  of  the  speculative  philosophy 
of  the  day. 


216 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


EIROS. 

« 

The  individual  calamity  was,  as  you  say,  entirely 
unanticipated  ;  but  analogous  misfortunes  had  been 
long  a  subject  of  discussion  with  astronomers.  I 
need  scarce  tell  you,  my  friend,  that,  even  when  you 
left  us,  men  had  agreed  to  understand  those  passages 
in  the  most  holy  writings  which  speak  of  the  final 
destruction  of  all  things  by  fire,  as  having  reference 
to  the  orb  of  the  earth  alone.  But  in  regard  to  the 
immediate  agency  of  the  ruin,  speculation  had  been 
at  fault  from  that  epoch  in  astronomical  knowledge 
in  which  the  comets  were  divested  of  the  terrors  of 
flame.  The  very  moderate  density  of  these  bodies 
had  been  well  established.  They  had  been  observed 
to  pass  among  the  satellites  of  Jupiter,  without  bring¬ 
ing  about  any  sensible  alteration  either  in  the  masses 
or  in  the  orbits  of  these  secondary  planets.  We  had 
long  regarded  the  wanderers  as  vapory  creations  of 
inconceivable  tenuity,  and  as  altogether  incapable  of 
doing  injury  to  our  substantial  globe,  even  in  the 
event  of  contact.  But  contact  was  not  in  any  de¬ 
gree  dreaded  ;  for  the  elements  of  all  the  comets 
were  accurately  known.  That  among  them  we 
should  look  for  the  agency  of  the  threatened  fiery 
destruction  had  been  for  many  years  considered  an 
inadmissible  idea.  But  wonders  and  wild  fancies 
had  been,  of  late  days,  strangely  rife  among  man¬ 
kind  ;  and,  although  it  was  only  with  a  few  of  the 
ignorant  that  actual  apprehension  prevailed  upon 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


217 


the  announcement  by  astronomers  of  a  new  comet, 
yet  this  announcement  was  generally  received  with 
I  know  not  what  of  agitation  and  mistrust. 

The  elements  of  the  strange  orb  were  immediately 
calculated,  and  it  was  at  once  conceded  by  all  ob¬ 
servers  that  its  path,  at  perihelion,  would  bring  it 
into  very  close  proximity  with  the  earth.  There 
were  two  or  three  astronomers,  and  these  of  secondary 
note,  who  resolutely  maintained  that  a  contact  was 
inevitable.  I  cannot  very  w'ell  express  to  you  the 
effect  of  this  intelligence  upon  the  people.  For  a 
few  short  davs  they  would  not  believe  an  assertion 
which  their  intellect,  so  long  employed  among  worldly 
considerations,  could  not  in  any  manner  grasp.  But 
the  truth  of  a  vitally  important  fact  soon  makes  it 
way  into  the  understanding  of  even  the  most  stolid. 
Finally,  all  men  saw  that  astronomical  knowledge 
lied  not,  and  they  awraited  the  comet.  Its  approach 
was  not,  at  first,  seemingly  rapid  —  nor  was  its  ap¬ 
pearance  of  very  unusual  character.  It  was  of  a 
dull  red,  and  had  little  perceptible  train.  For  seven 
or  eight  days  we  saw  no  material  increase  in  its 
apparent  diameter,  and  but  a  partial  alteration  in  its 
colour.  Meantime,  the  ordinary  affairs  of  men  were 
discarded,  and  all  interests  absorbed  in  a  growing 
discussion,  instituted  by  the  philosophic,  in  respect 
to  the  cometary  nature.  Even  the  grossly  ignorant 
aroused  their  sluggish  capacities  to  such  considera¬ 
tions.  The  learned  now  gave  their  intellect  • —  their 
soul  —  to  no  such  points  as  the  allaying  of  fear,  or 
20* 


218 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


to  the  sustenance  of  loved  theory.  They  sought  — 
they  panted  for  right  views.  They  groaned  for 
perfected  knowledge.  Truth  arose  in  the  purity  of 
her  strength  and  exceeding  majesty,  and  the  wise 
bowed  down  and  adored. 

That  material  injury  to  our  globe  or  to  its  in¬ 
habitants  would  result  from  the  apprehended  contact, 
was  an  opinion  which  hourly  lost  ground  among  the 
wise  —  and  the  wise  were  now  freely  permitted  to 
rule  the  reason  and  the  fancy  of  the  crowd.  It  was 
demonstrated,  that  the  density  of  the  comet’s  nucleus 
was  far  less  than  that  of  our  rarest  gas  ;  and  its 
harmless  passage  among  the  satellites  of  Jupiter  w^as 
a  point  strongly  insisted  upon,  and  which  served 
greatly  to  allay  terror.  Theologists,  with  an  earnest¬ 
ness  fear-enkindled,  dwelt  upon  the  biblical  pro¬ 
phecies,  and  expounded  them  to  the  people  with  a 
directness  and  simplicity,  of  w^hich  no  previous  in¬ 
stance  had  been  known.  That  the  final  destruction 
of  the  earth  must  be  brought  about  by  the  agency 
of  fire,  was  urged  with  a  spirit  that  enforced  every 
where  conviction  ;  and  that  the  comets  were  of  no 
fiery  nature  (as  all  men  now  knew)  was  a  truth 
which  relieved  all,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the  ap¬ 
prehension  of  the  great  calamity  foretold.  It  is 
noticeable  that  the  popular  prejudices  and  vulgar 
errors  in  regard  to  pestilences  and  wars  —  errors 
which  were  wont  to  prevail  upon  every  appearance 
of  a  comet  —  were  now  altogether  unknown.  As 
if  by  some  sudden  convulsive  exertion,  reason  had 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


219 


at  once  hurled  superstition  from  her  throne.  The 
feeblest  intellect  had  derived  vigor  from  excessive 
interest. 

What  minor  evils  might  arise  from  the  contact 
were  points  of  elaborate  question.  The  learned 
spoke  of  slight  geological  disturbances ;  of  probable 
alterations  in  climate  and  consequently  in  vegetation; 
of  possible  magnetic  and  electric  influences.  Many 
held  that  no  visible  or  perceptible  effect  would  in 
any  manner  be  produced.  While  such  discussions 
were  going  on  their  subject  gradually  approached, 
growing  larger  in  apparent  diameter,  and  of  a  more 
brilliant  lustre.  Mankind  grew  paler  as  it  came- 
All  human  operations  were  suspended. 

There  was  an  epoch  in  the  course  of  the  general 
sentiment  when  the  comet  had  attained  at  length 
a  size  surpassing  that  of  any  previously  recorded 
visitation.  The  people  now,  dismissing  any  linger¬ 
ing  hope  that  the  astronomers  were  wrong,  ex¬ 
perienced  all  the  certainty  of  evil.  The  chimerical 
aspect  of  their  terror  wTas  gone.  The  hearts  of 
the  stoutest  of  our  race  beat  violently  within  their 
bosoms.  A  very  few  days  sufficed,  however,  to 
merge  even  such  feelings  in  sentiments  more  un¬ 
endurable.  We  could  no  longer  apply  to  the  strange 
orb  any  accustomed  thoughts.  Its  historical  at. 
tributes  had  disappeared.  It  oppressed  us  with  a 
hideous  novelty  of  emotion.  We  saw  it  not  as  an 
astronomical  phenomenon  in  the  heavens  —  but  as 
an  incubus  upon  our  hearts,  and  a  shadow  upon  our 
brain.  It  had  taken,  with  inconceivable  rapidity, 


220 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


the  character  of  a  gigantic  mantle  of  rare  flame, 
extending  from  horizon  to  horizon. 

Yet  a  day,  and  men  breathed  with  greater  free¬ 
dom.  It  was  clear  that  we  were  already  within  the 
influence  of  the  comet  —  yet  we  lived.  We  even 
felt  an  unusual  elasticity  of  frame  and  vivacity  of 
mind.  The  exceeding  tenuity  of  the  object  of  our 
dread  was  apparent,  all  heavenly  objects  were  plainly 
visible  through  it.  Meantime,  our  vegetation  had 
perceptibly  altered  —  and  we  gained  faith,  from  this 
predicted  circumstance,  in  the  foresight  of  the  wise. 
A  wild  luxuriance  of  foliage  —  utterly  unknown  be¬ 
fore  —  burst  out  upon  every  vegetable  thing. 

Yet  another  day  —  and  the  evil  was  not  al¬ 
together  upon  us.  It  was  now  evident  that  its 
nucleus  would  first  reach  us.  A  wild  change  had 
come  over  all  men  — and  the  first  sense  of  pain  — 
was  the  wild  signal  for  general  lamentation  and 
horror.  This  first  sense  of  pain  lay  in  a  rigorous 
constriction  of  the  breast  and  lungs,  and  an  insuf¬ 
ferable  drvness  of  the  skin.  It  could  not  be  denied 
•> 

that  our  atmosphere  was  radically  affected  —  the 
conformation  of  this  atmosphere  and  the  possible 
modifications  to  which  it  might  be  subjected,  were 
nowr  the  topics  of  discussion.  The  result  of  investi¬ 
gation  sent  an  electric  thrill  of  the  intensest  terror 
through  the  universal  heart  of  man. 

It  had  been  long  known  that  the  air  which  encir¬ 
cled  us  was  a  compound  of  oxygen  and  nitrogen 
gases,  in  the  proportion  of  twenty-one  measures  of 
oxygen,  and  seventy-nine  of  nitrogen,  in  every  one 


EIROS  AND  CHARMION. 


221 


hundred  of  the  atmosphere.  Oxygen,  which  was  the 
principle  of  combustion,  and  the  vehicle  of  heat,  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  support  of  animal  life, 
and  was  the  most  powerful  and  energetic  agent  in 
nature.  Nitrogen,  on  the  contrary,  was  incapable 
of  supporting  either  animal  life  or  flame.  An  un¬ 
natural  excess  of  oxygen  would  result,  it  had  been 
ascertained,  in  just  such  an  elevation  of  the  animal 
spirits  as  we  had  latterly  experienced.  It  was  the 
pursuit,  the  extension  of  the  idea,  which  had  en¬ 
gendered  awe.  What  would  be  the  result  of  a  total 
extraction  of  the  nitrogen  ?  A  combustion  irresisti¬ 
ble,  all-devouring,  omni-prevalent,  immediate  —  the 
entire  fulfilment,  in  all  its  minute  and  terrible  details, 
of  the  fiery  and  horror -inspiring  denunciations  of  the 
prophecies  of  the  Holy  Book. 

Why  need  I  paint,  Charmion,  the  now  disenchained 
frenzy  of  mankind  ?  That  tenuity  in  the  comet  which 
had  previously  inspired  us  with  hope,  was  now  the 
source  of  the  bitterness  of  despair.  In  its  impalpable 
gaseous  character  we  clearly  perceived  the  consum¬ 
mation  of  Fate.  Meantime  a  day  again  passed — - 
bearing  away  with  it  the  last  shadow  of  Hope.  We 
gasped  in  the  rapid  modification  of  the  air.  The  red 
blood  bounded  tumultuously  through  its  strict  chan¬ 
nels.  A  furious  delirium  possessed  all  men ;  and, 
with  arms  immoveably  outstretched  towards  the 
threatening  heavens,  they  trembled  and  shrieked 
aloud.  But  the  nucleus  of  the  destroyer  was  now 
upon  us.  Even  here  in  Aidenn,  I  shudder  while  I 
speak.  Let  me  be  brief — brief  as  the  ruin  that 


222 


GROTESQUE  AND  ARABESQUE. 


overwhelmed.  For  a  short  moment  there  was  a 
wild  lurid  light  alone,  visiting  and  penetrating  all 
things.  Then  —  let  us  bow  down,  Charmion,  before 
the  excessive  majesty  of  the  great  God !  then,  there 
came  a  great  pervading  sound,  as  if  from  the  mouth 
itself  of  him  ;  while  the  whole  incumbent  mass  of 
ether  in  which  we  existed  burst  at  once  into  a 
species  of  intense  flame,  for  whose  surpassing  bril¬ 
liancy  and  all-fervid  heat  even  the  angels  in  the 
great  Heaven  of  pure  knowledge  have  no  name. 
Thus  ended  all. 


APPENDIX. 


223 


APPENDIX. 


In  a  note  to  the  title  of  the  story  called  “Hans  Phaal,”  I 
made  allusion  to  the  “  moon-hoax  ”  of  Mr.  Locke.  As  a  great 
many  more  persons  were  actually  gulled  by  this  jeu  d'esprit 
than  would  be  willing  to  acknowledge  the  fact,  it  may  here 
afford  some  little  amusement  to  show  why  no  one  should  have 
been  deceived  —  to  point  out  those  particulars  of  the  story 
which  should  have  been  sufficient  to  establish  its  real  character. 
Indeed,  however  rich  the  imagination  displayed  in  this  in¬ 
genious  fiction,  it  wanted  much  of  the  force  which  might  have 
been  given  it  by  a  more  scrupulous  attention  to  general  analogy 
and  physical  truth.  That  the  public  were  misled,  even  for  an 
instant,  merely  proves  the  gross  ignorance  which  is  so  generally 
prevalent  upon  subjects  of  an  astronomical  nature. 

The  moon’s  distance  from  the  earth  is,  in  round  numbers, 
240,000  miles.  If  we  desire  to  ascertain  how  near,  apparently, 
a  lens  would  bring  the  satellite,  (or  any  distant  object,)  we,  of 
course,  have  but  to  divide  the  distance  by  the  magnifying 
power  of  the  glass.  Mr.  L.  makes  his  lens  have  a  magnify¬ 
ing  power  of  42,000  times.  By  thisdivide  240,000  (the  moon’s 
real  distance),  and  we  have  five  miles  and  five-sevenths,  as  the 
apparent  distance.  No  animal  at  all  could  be  seen  so  far;  much 
less  the  minute  points  particularised  in  the  story.  Mr.  L. 
speaks  about  Sir  John  Herschell’s  perceiving  flowers  (the  Pa- 
paver  rheas,  &c.),  and  even  detecting  the  color  and  the  shape 
of  the  eyes  of  small  birds.  Shortly  before,  too,  he  has  him- 


224 


APPENDIX. 


self  observed  that  the  lens  would  not  render  perceptible  ob¬ 
jects  of  less  than  eighteen  inches  in  diameter;  but  even  this, 
as  I  have  said,  is  giving  the  glass  by  far  too  great  power.  It 
may  be  observed,  era  passant ,  that  his  prodigious  glass  is  said 
to  have  been  moulded  at  the  glass-house  of  Messrs.  Hartley  and 
Grant  in  Dumbarton;  but  Messrs.  H.  and  G.’s  establishment 
had  ceased  operations  for  many  years  previous  to  the  publica¬ 
tion  of  the  hoax. 

On  page  13,  pamphlet  edition,  speaking  of  “a  hairy  veil  ” 
over  the  eyes  of  a  species  of  bison,  the  author  says  —  “  It  im¬ 
mediately  occurred  to  the  acute  mind  of  Dr.  Herschell  that  this 
was  a  providential  contrivance  to  protect  the  eyes  of  the  animal 
from  the  great  extremes  of  light  and  darkness  to  which  all  the 
inhabitants  of  our  side  of  the  moon  are  periodically  subjected.” 
But  this  cannot  be  thought  a  very  “  acute  ”  observation  of  the 
Doctor’s.  The  inhabitants  of  our  side  of  the  moon  have,  evi¬ 
dently,  no  darkness  at  all;  so  there  can  be  nothing  of  the 
“  extremes  ”  mentioned.  In  the  absence  of  the  sun  they  have  a 
light  from  the  earth  equal  to  that  of  thirteen  full  moons. 

The  topography  throughout,  even  when  professing  to  accord 
with  Blunt’s  Lunar  Chart,  is  entirely  at  variance  with  that  or 
any  other  lunar  chart,  and  even  grossly  at  variance  with  itself. 
The  points  of  the  compass,  too,  are  in  inextricable  confusion  — 
the  writer  appearing  to  be  ignorant  that,  on  a  lunar  map,  these 
are  not  in  accordance  with  terrestrial  points  ;  the  east  being  to 
the  left,  &c. 

Deceived,  perhaps,  by  the  vague  titles,  Mare  Nubium,  Mare 
Tranquillitatis ,  Mare  Fcecunditatis,  &c.,  given  to  the  dark  spots 
by  former  astronomers,  Mr.  L.  has  entered  into  long  details 
regarding  oceans  and  other  large  bodies  of  water  in  the  moon  ; 
whereas  there  is  no  astronomical  point  more  positively  ascer¬ 
tained  than  that  no  such  bodies  exist  there.  In  examining  the 
boundary  between  light  and  darkness  (in  a  crescent  or  gibbous 
moon)  where  this  boundary  crosses  any  of  the  dark  places,  the 
line  of  division  is  found  to  be  rough  and  jagged  —  but  were 
these  dark  places  liquid,  it  would  evidently  be  even. 

The  description  of  the  wings  of  the  man-bat,  on  page  21,  is 


APPENDIX. 


225 


but  a  literal  copy  of  Peter  Wilkins’  account  of  the  wings  of  his 
flying  islanders.  This  simple  fact  should  have  induced  su  s- 
picion,  at  least,  it  might  be  thought. 

On  page  23,  we  have  the  following.  “What  a  prodigious 
influence  must  our  thirteen  times  larger  globe  have  exercised 
upon  this  satellite  when  an  embryo  in  the  womb  of  time,  the 
passive  subject  of  chemical  affinity  !”  This  is  very  fine  —  but 
it  should  be  observed  that  no  astronomer  would  have  made  such 
remark,  especially  to  any  Journal  of  Science  —  for  the  earth, 
in  the  sense  intended,  is  not  only  13,  but  49  times  larger  than 
the  moon.  A  similar  objection  applies  to  the  whole  of  the  con¬ 
cluding  pages,  where,  by  way  of  introduction  to  some  dis¬ 
coveries  in  Saturn,  the  philosophical  correspondent  enters  into 
a  minute  schoolboy  account  of  that  planet — this  to  the  Edin¬ 
burgh  Journal  of  Science ! 

But  there  is  one  point,  in  particular,  which  should  have  dis¬ 
covered  the  fiction.  Let  us  imagine  the  power  actually  pos¬ 
sessed  of  seeing  animals  upon  the  moon’s  surface  —  what 
would  first  arrest  the  attention  of  an  observer  from  the  earth  1 
Certainly  neither  their  shape,  size,  nor  any  other  such  peculiarity, 
so  soon  as  their  remarkable  situation.  They  would  appear  to 
be  walking  with  heels  up  and  head  down,  in  the  manner  of  flies 
on  a  ceiling.  The  real  observer  would  have  uttered  an  instant 
ejaculation  of  surprise  (however  prepared  by  previous  know¬ 
ledge)  at  the  singularity  of  their  position  ;  the  fictitious  observer 
has  not  even  mentioned  the  subject  at  all,  but  speaks  of  seeing 
the  entire  bodies  of  such  creatures,  when  it  is  demonstrable 
that  he  could  have  seen  only  the  diameter  of  their  heads  ! 

It  might  as  well  be  remarked,  in  conclusion,  that  the  size, 
and  particularly  the  powers  of  the  man-bats  (for  example,  their 
ability  to  fly  in  so  rare  an  atmosphere  —  if  indeed  the  moon  have 
any)  —  with  most  of  the  other  fancies  in  regard  to  animal  and 
vegetable  existence,  are  at  variance,  generally,  with  all  ana¬ 
logical  reasoning  on  these  themes  ;  and  that  analogy  here  will 
often  amount  to  conclusive  demonstration.  It  is,  perhaps, 
scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  all  the  suggestions  attributed  to 
Brewster  and  Herschell,  in  the  beginning  of  the  article,  about 

VOL.  II. — 21 


226 


APPENDIX. 


“a  transfusion  of  artificial  light  through  the  focal  object  of 
vision,”  &c.,  &c.,  belong  to  that  species  of  figurative  writing 
which  comes,  most  properly,  under  the  denomination  of  rigma¬ 
role. 

I  have  lately  read  a  singular  and  somewhat  ingenious  little 
book,  whose  title  page  runs  thus  —  “  L’Homme  dans  la  Ivne, 
ou  le  Voyage  Chimerique  fait  au  Monde  de  la  Lvne,  nouuelle- 
ment  decouuert.  par  Dominique  Gonzales,  Aduanturier  Espagnol, 
autremet  dit  le  Courier  volant.  Mis  en  notre  langve  par  J.  B.  D. 
A.  Paris,  chez  Francois  Piot,  pres  la  Fontaine  de  Saint  Benoist. 
Et  chez  J.  Goignard,  au  premier  pilier  de  la  grand’  salle  du 
Palais,  proche  les  Consultations,  MDCXLVIII.”  pp.  176. 

The  writer  professes  to  have  translated  his  work  from  the 
English  of  one  Mister  D’Avisson  (Davidson  1)  although  there 
is  a  terrible  ambiguity  in  the  statement.  “  Pen  ai  eu,  ”  says  he, 
“  l’oriffinal  de  Monsieur  D’Avisson,  medecin  des  mieux  versez 
qui  soient  aujourd’huy  dans  la  conoissance  des  Belles  Lettres, 
et  sur  tout  de  la  Philosophie  Naturelle.  Je  lui  ai  cette  obliga¬ 
tion  entre  les  autres,  de  m’auoir  non  seulement  mis  en  main  ce 
Livre  en  anglois,  mais  encore  le  Manuscrit  du  Sieur  Thomas 
D’Anan,  gentilhomme  Eccossois,  recommandable  pour  savertu, 
sur  la  version  duquel  j’advoue  que  j’ay  tire  le  plan  de  la 
mienne.” 

After  some  irrelevant  adventures,  much  in  the  manner  of  Gil 
Bias,  and  which  occupy  the  first  thirty  pages,  the  author  relates 
that,  being  ill  during  a  sea-voyage,  the  crew  abandoned  him, 
together  with  a  negro  servant,  on  the  island  St.  Helena.  To 
increase  the  chances  of  obtaining  food,  the  two  separate,  and 
live  as  far  apart  as  possible.  This  brings  about  a  training  of 
birds,  to  serve  the  purpose  of  carrier-pigeons  between  them. 
By-and-by  these  are  taught  to  carry  parcels  of  some  weight  — 
and  this  weight  is  gradually  increased.  At  length  the  idea  is 
entertained  of  uniting  the  force  of  a  great  number  of  the  birds, 
with  a  view  to  raising  the  author  himself.  A  machine  is  con¬ 
trived  for  the  purpose,  and  we  have  a  minute  description  of  it, 
which  is  materially  helped  out  by  a  steel  engraving.  Here  we 
perceive  the  Signor  Gonzales,  with  point  ruffles  and  a  huge 


APPENDIX. 


227 


periwig,  seated  astride  something  which  resembles  very  closely 
a  broomstick,  and  borne  aloft  by  a  multitude  of  wild  swans 
(ga?izas)  who  have  strings  reaching  from  their  tails  to  the 
machine. 

The  main  event  detailed  in  the  Signor’s  narrative  depends 
upon  a  very  important  fact,  of  which  the  reader  is  kept  in 
ignorance  until  near  the  end  of  the  book.  The  ganzas,  with 
whom  he  had  become  so  familiar,  were  not  really  denizens  of 
St.  Helena,  but  of  the  moon.  Thence  it  had  been  their  custom, 
time  out  of  mind,  to  migrate  annually  to  some  portion  of  the  earth. 
In  proper  season,  of  course,  they  would  return  home;  and  the  author 
happening,  one  day,  to  require  their  services  for  a  short  voyage, 
is  unexpectedly  carried  straight  up,  and  in  a  very  brief  period 
arrives  at  the  satellite.  Here  he  finds,  among  other  odd  things, 
that  the  people  enjoy  extreme  happiness;  that  they  have  no 
law ;  that  they  die  without  pain  ;  that  they  range  from  ten  to 
thirty  feet  in  height ;  that  they  live  five  thousand  years  ;  that  they 
have  an  emperor  called  Irdonozur;  and  that  they  can  jump 
sixty  feet  high,  when,  being  out  of  the  gravitating  influence, 
they  fly  about  with  fans. 

I  cannot  forbear  giving  a  specimen  of  the  general  philosophy 
of  the  volume. 

“  I  must  now  declare  to  you,”  says  the  Signor  Gonzales, 
“  the  nature  of  the  place  in  which  I  found  myself.  All  the 
clouds  were  beneath  my  feet,  or,  if  you  please,  spread  between 
me  and  the  earth.  As  to  the  stars,  since  there  was  no  night 
where  I  was,  they  always  had  the  same  appearance ;  not  bril¬ 
liant,  as  usual,  but  pale,  and  very  nearly  like  the  moon  of  a 
morning.  But  few  of  them  were  visible,  and  these  ten  times 
larger  (as  well  as  I  could  judge)  than  they  seem  to  the  in¬ 
habitants  of  the  earth.  The  moon,  which  wanted  two  days  of 
being  full,  was  of  a  terrible  bigness. 

“I  must  not  forget  here,  that  the  stars  appeared  only  on  that 
side  of  the  globe  turned  towards  the  moon,  and  that  the  closer 
they  were  to  it  the  larger  they  seemed.  I  have  also  to  inform 
you  that,  whether  it  was  calm  weather  or  stormy,  I  found  my¬ 
self  always  immediately  between  the  moon  and  the  earth. 


228 


APPENDIX. 


was  convinced  of  this  for  two  reasons  —  because  my  birds  al¬ 
ways  flew  in  a  straight  line;  and  because,  whenever  we  attempted 
to  rest,  we  wTere  carried  insensibly  around  the  globe  of  the  earth. 
For  I  admit  the  opinion  of  Copernicus,  who  maintains  that  it 
never  ceases  to  revolve  from  the  east  to  the  west ,  not  upon  the 
poles  of  the  Equinoctial,  commonly  called  the  poles  of  the  world, 
but  upon  those  of  the  Zodiac  — a  question  of  which  I  propose 
to  speak  more  at  length  hereafter,  when  I  shall  have  leisure  to 
refresh  my  memory  in  regard  to  the  astrology  which  I  learned 
at  Salamanca  when  young,  and  have  since  forgotten.” 

Notwithstanding  the  blunder  italicised,  which  Fis  no  doubt  a 
mere  lapsus  linguae ,  the  book  is  not  without  some  elaim  to  at¬ 
tention,  as  affording  a  naive  specimen  of  the  current  astronomical 
notions  of  the  time.  One  of  these  assumed,  that  the  “  gravita¬ 
ting  power  ”  extended  but  a  short  distance  from  the  earth’s 
surface  —  and,  accordingly,  we  find  our  voyager  “  carried  insen¬ 
sibly  around  the  globe,”  &c. 


( 


THE  END. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
LIBRARY 
PS  2  612 
•A1 
181*0 
v.2 


*  - 


1 


i  2-/3  So  ^vw.  AV  **/—*■>- 

/#/3  ‘  sli^fAj  trust-  j  7^ 


-< 


